HENRIK    IBSEN 


CHRONOLOGICAL   LIST   OF   IBSEN'S  WORKS 
WITH  DATES  OF  PUBLICATION. 


CATALINA.     1850. 

THE  WARRIOR'S  TOMB  (unpublished). 

NORMA:  OR,  A  POLITICIAN'S  LOVE  (unpublished). 

ST.  JOHN'S  NIGHT  (unpublished). 

FRU  INGER  OF  OESTRAAT.     1857. 

OLAF  LILJEKRANS  (unpublished). 

THE  FEAST  AT  SOLHAUG.     1857. 

THE  CHIEFTAINS  OF  HELGELAND.     1858. 

LOVE'S  COMEDY.     1862. 

THE  PRETENDERS.     1864. 

BRAND.     1866. 

PEER  GYNT.     1867. 

THE  YOUNG  MEN'S  UNION.     1869. 

POEMS.     1871. 

EMPEROR  AND  GALILEAN.     1873. 

THE  PILLARS  OF  SOCIETY.     1877. 

A  DOLL  HOME.     1879. 

GHOSTS.     1881. 

AN  ENEMY  OF  THE  PEOPLE.     1882. 

THE  WILD  DUCK.     1884. 

ROSMERSHOLM.       l886. 

THE  LADY  FROM  THE  SEA.     1888. 

HEDDA  GABLER      1890. 

THE  MASTER  BUILDER.     1892. 

LITTLE  EYOLF.     1894. 

JOHN  GABRIEL  BORKMAN.     1896. 

WHEN  WE  DEAD  AWAKE.     1899. 


HENRIK    IBSEN 


A    CRITICAL    BIOGRAPHY 


BY    HENRIK    JAEGER 


Jtotn  tfye 
BY  WILLIAM    MORTON    PAYNE 


SECOND    EDITION 
WITH  A  SUPPLEMENTARY  CHAPTER  BY  THE  TRANSLATOR 


CHICAGO 

A.   C.   McCLURG    &    CO. 
1901 


COPYRIGHT 

A.  C.   McCLURG    &   CO. 

1901 


PREFACE. 


interest  now  taken,  among  English-speak- 
-*-  ing  people,  in  the  writings  of  HENRIK  IBSEN, 
seems  to  make  it  desirable  that  some  extended 
account  of  his  life  and  work  should  be  placed 
within  the  reach  of  the  public.  I  had  for  some 
time  been  contemplating  the  preparation  of  a 
critical  essay  upon  the  subject,  when  this  work 
by  Henrik  Jaeger  came  into  my  hands,  and  I 
concluded  to  translate  it  instead  of  writing  the 
original  study  of  which  I  had  at  first  thought. 
While  Herr  Jaeger's  book,  being  addressed  pri- 
marily to  the  Scandinavian  public,  —  already 
familiar  with  Ibsen's  writings,  —  is,  in  some  respects, 
not  exactly  what  would  have  been  written  with  a 
strictly  English-speaking  audience  in  view,  it  seems, 
on  the  whole,  to  cover  the  ground  fairly  well  and 
to  be,  for  the  most  part,  just  and  intelligible.  The 
occasional  allusions  to  matters  of  Scandinavian 
history  and  literature  may  not  convey  as  distinct 


IV  PREFACE. 

a  meaning  to  an  English-speaking  as  to  a  Nor- 
wegian or  Danish  public,  but  the  picture  presented 
of  the  subject  of  the  biography  is  clearly  outlined 
and  well-proportioned,  his  methods  and  aims  are 
carefully  defined,  his  message  is  distinctly  stated, 
and  the  long  series  of  his  works  made  the  subject 
of  a  broadly  sympathetic  analysis  and  criticism. 
Since  a  large  number  of  those  works  already  exist 
in  careful  English  translations,  while  other  trans- 
lations are  likely  to  follow,  the  English  reader  is 
now,  or  soon  will  be,  in  a  position  to  understand 
his  Ibsen  almost  as  well  as  he  understands  his 
Goethe  or  his  Hugo. 

I  say  almost  as  well,  because,  unfortunately, 
the  two  master-works  of  the  great  Norwegian  — 
"  Brand  "  and  "  Peer  Gynt  "  —  are  impossible  of 
adequate  English  translation,  almost  impossible 
of  English  translation  at  all,  as  I  have  abundant 
reason  to  know,  from  the  difficulty  experienced 
in  reproducing  the  two  hundred  or  more  verses 
extracted  from  those  poems  for  use  in  the  present 
work.  The  difficulty  arises  from  the  character- 
istic metrical  form  of  the  two  poems.  "  Brand  " 
is  written  wholly,  and  "  Peer  Gynt "  largely,  in 
rhymed  octosyllabic  verse,  the  rhyme  often  re- 
peated three  or  four  times,  and  frequently  femi- 
nine in  ending.  Such  verse  might  be  successfully 
written  in  Chaucerian  English  or  in  modern  Ger- 


PREFACE.  V 

man,  but  not  in  modern  English.  It  is,  in  short, 
the  verse  of  "  Hudibras,"  only  far  more  compact 
and  serious,  more  exact  in  rhyme,  and  richer  in 
feminine  endings.  Acceptable  German  transla- 
tions of  both  poems  have  been  made,  and  to  these 
the  reader  must  be  referred.  For  the  extracts  from 
these  two  poems  included  in  the  present  transla- 
tion, as  well  as  for  the  other  verse  translations 
scattered  through  its  pages,  I  must  beg  the  read- 
er's indulgence.  The  metrical  form  has  been 
scrupulously  reproduced  in  every  respect  but 
one,  —  the  feminine  rhymes  having  been  often  re- 
placed by  rhymes  of  a  single  syllable.  Even  the 
order  of  rhyming  has  been  preserved  in  almost 
every  case.  Working  under  these  primary  limi- 
tations, the  thought  and  the  figurative  form  of 
its  expression  have  been  reproduced  as  accurately 
as  was  possible.  If  the  reader  still  think  that  the 
result  is  doggerel,  I  will  at  least  remind  him  that 
the  verse  of  "  Hudibras  "  —  the  principal  example 
of  the  form  in  English  poetry  —  is  open  to  the 
same  charge,  and  that  the  original  Norwegian  also 
often  comes  dangerously  near  to  producing  the 
effect  of  doggerel.  It  is  saved,  in  fact,  from  the 
ascription  of  that  quality,  only  by  its  compact 
and  pregnant  thought  and  by  its  intense  serious- 
ness of  purpose.  Finally,  I  will  say  that  the 
verse  of  Ibsen  is  often  as  crabbed  as  that  of 


Vi  PREFACE. 

Browning  in  its  most  perverse  form,  and  that  the 
two  poets  have  about  the  same  disregard  for  the 
external  graces  of  poetic  diction. 

I  have  supplied  footnotes  to  the  present  trans- 
lation in  the  few  cases  in  which  they  seemed  ne- 
cessary to  make  the  text  intelligible  to  an  English- 
speaking  public.  On  the  other  hand,  —  and  this 
is  the  only  liberty  that  I  have  taken  with  the 
original,  —  I  have  suppressed  such  notes  of  the 
author  as  are  merely  references  to  Scandinavian 
books  and  periodicals  inaccessible  to  English 
readers.  In  place  of  such  notes  I  thought  it 
best  to  provide  this  introduction  with  a  few  re- 
marks upon  the  existing  English  translations  of 
Ibsen's  plays,  and  upon  one  or  two  critical  studies 
of  special  importance  to  which  English  readers 
may  be  referred. 

Of  translations,  the  first  to  be  made  was  that 
of  "  Emperor  and  Galilean,"  by  Catherine  Ray 
(London,  1876).  Then  came  "A  Doll  Home," 
by  Henrietta  F.  Lord  (London,  1882),  which  was 
first  published  under  the  title  of  "  Nora,"  and 
which  has  recently  appeared  in  an  American  edi- 
tion under  its  proper  title.  The  series  of  prose 
dramas  now  being  published  under  the  super- 
vision of  William  Archer  is  to  include  translations 
of  "  A  Doll  Home,"  "  The  Young  Men's  Union," 
"  The  Pillars  of  Society,"  "  Ghosts,"  "  An  Enemy 


PREFACE.  Vll 

of  the  People,"  "  The  Wild  Duck,"  "  Fru  Inger  of 
Oestraat,"  "  The  Chieftains  of  Helgeland,"  "  The 
Pretenders,"  "  Rosmersholm,"  and  "  The  Lady 
from  the  Sea,"  —  in  other  words,  of  all  the  prose 
dramas  except  the  great  historical  tragedy,  "  Em- 
peror and  Galilean."  Then  there  is  the  handy 
volume  of  "  The  Camelot  Classics,"  edited  by 
Havelock  Ellis,  and  containing  Mr.  Archer's  trans- 
lations of  "  The  Pillars  of  Society  "  and  "  Ghosts," 
and  Mrs.  Aveling's  translation  of  "  An  Enemy  of 
the  People."  Independent  translations  of  "  Ros- 
mersholm "  and  "  The  Lady  from  the  Sea "  have 
also  been  published. 

Among  critical  studies  of  Ibsen,  the  following 
may  be  mentioned.  "  Studies  in  the  Literature  of 
Northern  Europe,"  by  Edmund  W.  Gosse  (Lon- 
don, 1879),  is  the  work  which  first  called  the  at- 
tention of  English  readers  to  Ibsen's  writings,  and 
is  still  one  of  our  best  sources  of  information  upon 
the  subject.  The  essay  by  Georg  Brandes,  to 
which  frequent  reference  is  made  in  these  pages, 
may  be  found  in  "  Eminent  Authors  of  the  Nine- 
teenth Century,"  translated  by  Rasmus  B.  Ander- 
son (New  York,  1886).  Those  who  can  get 
access  to  a  file  of  the  short-lived  but  valuable 
periodical,  "  Scandinavia,"  will  find  in  the  first 
volume  (Chicago,  1883-84)  a  series  of  papers  by 
the  late  Thorkild  A.  Schovelin,  which,  although 


viii  PREFACE. 

written  in  faulty  English,  are  remarkable  for  their 
sympathetic  appreciation  of  Ibsen's  genius.  The 
introductions  to  Mr.  Archer's  first  volume  and  to 
the  "  Camelot "  volume  already  mentioned  are  in- 
teresting and  trustworthy.  As  for  the  articles 
upon  Ibsen  to  be  found  in  English  and  American 
periodicals  of  the  past  year,  they  are  far  too 
numerous  to  specify,  and  are  as  a  rule  of  little 
value.  I  wish,  however,  to  call  attention  to  an 
account  of  "Peer  Gynt" — the  best  that  I  have 
ever  seen  in  English  —  written  by  Philip  H. 
Wicksteed  for  "  The  Contemporary  Review "  of 
August,  1889. 

WILLIAM  MORTON   PAYNE. 

CHICAGO, 

September,  1890. 


PREFACE  TO  THE   SECOND   EDITION. 


THIS  book  has  now  been  out  of  print  for  nearly 
three  years,  owing  to  the  destruction  by  fire, 
early  in  1899,  of  all  the  copies  then  unsold.  A  new 
edition  would  be  desirable  in  any  case,  since  the 
work  is  still,  as  it  was  when  the  original  was  first 
published  in  1888,  the  only  authoritative  account 
of  Ibsen's  life  and  writings.  But  a  new  edition 
becomes  even  more  necessary  for  the  reason  that 
an  important  series  of  plays  —  six  in  number  — 
have  been  added  to  the  list  of  Ibsen's  writings 
since  Henrik  Jaeger  prepared  this  critical  biog- 
raphy in  celebration  of  the  dramatist's  sixtieth 
birthday.  Moreover,  the  thirteen  years  that  have 
elapsed  have  witnessed  an  immense  broadening  of 
Ibsen's  fame  throughout  the  world ;  the  tide  of  as- 
persion and  misrepresentation  has  reached  its  ebb, 
and  few  voices  are  now  raised  to  question  his  place 
among  the  great  spirits  of  the  nineteenth  century. 
When  that  century  ended,  there  were  hardly  more 
than  half  a  dozen  living  writers  in  the  whole  cosmo- 


X  PREFACE    TO    THE  SECOND  EDITION. 

politan  world  of  letters  who  could  fairly  be  ranked, 
either  in  achieved  fame  or  in  influence  upon  the 
younger  generation,  with  Henrik  Ibsen. 

The  importance,  both  of  this  biography  and  its 
subject,  are  such  that  I  have  no  apology  to  offer 
for  making  the  work  again  accessible  to  the  public. 
But  some  apology  is  probably  needed  for  the 
chapter  of  my  own  writing  which  I  have  ventured 
to  add.  Henrik  Jaeger  died  in  1895,  and  thus  the 
task  of  bringing  his  work  down  to  the  present  date 
must  perforce  be  undertaken  by  some  one  else. 
Failing  a  worthier  pen,  I  have  sought  to  outline 
the  six  plays  that  have  appeared  since  Jaeger's 
book  was  written,  and  to  deal  with  them,  as  best 
I  might,  in  the  spirit  of  his  work. 

Except  for  a  few  trifling  corrections,  and  the 
additional  matter  already  mentioned,  this  edition 
is  a  reprint  of  that  published  in  1890.  Even  the 
original  preface  has  been  allowed  to  stand  un- 
changed, thus  requiring  me  to  note  in  the  present 
context  the  more  important  contributions  made 
during  the  past  ten  or  twelve  years  to  the  English 
literature  of  the  subject.  By  way  of  translation, 
much  has  been  done  to  fill  out  the  series  of  works 
accessible  in  our  language.  The  series  of  transla- 
tions made  (or  supervised)  by  Mr.  William  Archer 
has  been  extended  to  include  "  Peer  Gynt,"  as  well 
as  all  of  the  later  plays.  Mr.  Archer  is  at  present 


PREFACE    TO    THE  SECOND  EDITION.          xi 

engaged  upon  a  revised  edition  of  the  books  of 
this  series.  By  far  the  most  important  work  of 
translation  thus  far  done  is  found  in  Professor 
C.  H.  Herford's  versions  of  "  Love's  Comedy  "  and 
"  Brand."  The  latter  translation  is  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  ever  made,  and  the  successful  manner 
in  which  it  has  performed  a  task  of  extraordinary 
difficulty  goes  far  to  falsify  the  statement,  made  in 
my  preface  of  1890,  that  "Brand"  is  "impossible 
of  adequate  English  translation."  Certainly,  Pro- 
fessor Herford  has  achieved  a  success  in  turning 
this  poem  into  English  that  goes  far  beyond  the 
best  that  I  had  supposed  possible.  The  English 
reader  has  now  no  excuse  for  not  becoming  ac- 
quainted with  the  greatest  of  Ibsen's  works,  and  he 
will  also  find  in  the  translator's  introduction  to 
"  Brand  "  one  of  the  deepest  and  most  suggestive 
pieces  of  critical  writing  of  which  Ibsen  has  thus 
far  been  made  the  subject. 

The  ethical  and  philosophical  problem  of 
"  Brand  "  is  indeed  a  difficult  one,  and  has  baffled 
many  commentators.  By  far  the  most  illuminating 
discussion  of  the  subject  that  has  come  to  my  at- 
tention is  found  in  an  article  by  M.  A.  Stobart, 
which  appeared  in  "  The  Fortnightly  Review  "  for 
August,  1 899.  This  article  shows  how  deeply  the 
ideals  of  Brand  are  rooted  in  the  philosophy  of 
Kierkegaard,  and  provides  an  intelligible  explana- 


xii         PREFACE    TO    THE  SECOND  EDITION. 

tion  of  the  puzzling  final  episode  of  the  avalanche 
and  the  macaronic  ending  of  the  play.  Much 
other  Ibsen  criticism  of  the  past  twelve  years  must 
be  passed  by  without  mention  here,  but  there  are 
two  books  that  deserve  attention.  One  is  "  A 
Commentary  on  the  Writings  of  Henrik  Ibsen," 
by  the  late  H.  H.  Boyesen,  a  book  published 
in  1894.  This  work  deals  with  the  writings  of  Ibsen 
seriatim  down  to  "  The  Master  Builder,"  and  dis- 
cusses them  in  a  highly  intelligent  and  interesting 
fashion.  The  other  book  is  a  translation  of  three 
essays  by  the  Danish  critic  Georg  Brandes.  These 
essays  are  dated,  respectively,  1867,  1882,  and  1898. 
The  first  of  these  essays  is  the  one  frequently  men- 
tioned in  the  present  book.  The  last  of  them  was 
the  contribution  of  Dr.  Brandes  to  the  celebration 
of  Ibsen's  seventieth  birthday.  The  three  taken 
together  thus  constitute,  in  the  words  of  Mr. 
Archer,  who  edits  the  English  translation,  "  a 
contemporaneously  noted  record  of  the  ever- 
developing  relation,  throughout  more  than  thirty 
years,  of  these  two  remarkable  minds,"  and 
thus  "  in  some  sort  a  running  commentary  on 
Ibsen's  spiritual  development."  It  is  certainly  one 
of  the  most  valuable  discussions  of  Ibsen  to  be  read 
in  the  English  language. 

W.   M.  P. 
CHICAGO,  October,  1901. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

I.    CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH  (1828-1850)     ...  13 

II.    APPRENTICESHIP  (1850-1857) 66 

III.  STRUGGLE  FOR  EXISTENCE  IN   CHRISTIANIA 

(1858-1864) 118 

IV.  CONTROVERSIAL  PERIOD-  (1864-1869)     .     .     .  162 
V.    REST  AND  RETROSPECT  (1870-1877)      .     .     .  207 

VI.    DRAMAS  OF  MODERN  LIFE  (1877-1888)     .     .  230 

VII.    THE  END  OF  THE  HISTORY  (1888-1901)    .    .  276 


LIST   OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PAGE 

PORTRAIT  OF  IBSEN  (in  the  nineties)  .     .     .     Frontispiece 

VIGNETTE  HEADPIECE 13 

SKIEN,  IBSEN'S  NATIVE  TOWN 18 

GRIMSTAD 40 

VIGNETTE  HEADPIECE 66 

IBSEN'S   BIRTHPLACE 90 

VIGNETTE  HEADPIECE 118. 

PORTRAIT  OF  IBSEN  (at  the  close  of  the  fifties)      .     .  130 

PORTRAIT  OF  IBSEN  (at  the  beginning  of  the  sixties)  136 

VIGNETTE  HEADPIECE 162 

VIGNETTE  HEADPIECE 207 

PORTRAIT  OF  IBSEN'S  WIFE 226 

VIGNETTE  HEADPIECE 230 

PORTRAIT  OF  IBSEN  (at  the  beginning  of  the  seventies)  238 

VENSTOB  FARM,  NEAR  SKIEN 246 

VIGNETTE  HEADPIECE 276 

PORTRAIT  OF  IBSEN  (in  the  eighties) 284 


I. 

CHILDHOOD   AND   YOUTH. 

A  BOUT  the  year  1720  a  Danish  skipper,  named 
•£*  Peter  Ibsen,  came  from  Moen  to  Bergen, 
became  a  citizen  of  the  latter  place,  and  married 
the  daughter  of  a  German  settler.  He  was  the 
great- great-grandfather  of  the  poet  Henrik  Ibsen. 

The  great-grandfather  bore  the  name  of  Henrik 
Petersen  Ibsen,  and  was  also  a  shipmaster.  He 
married  Wenche  Dischington,  the  daughter  of  a 
naturalized  Scotch  settler,  but  died  less  than  a 
year  after  the  wedding.  The  widow  afterwards 
married  Dean  v.  d.  Lippe  of  Solum  near  Skien, 
and  so  her  branch  of  the  Ibsen  family  became 
associated  with  that  town.  From  her  first  mar- 
riage she  had  a  single  son,  born  after  the  father's 
death,  and  given  his  name. 


14  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

Henrik  Ibsen,  the  second,  married  the  daughter 
of  a  merchant  of  Skien  named  Plesner.  Both  the 
merchant  and  his  wife  were  of  German  descent. 
This  marriage  was  also  of  brief  duration.  Hen- 
rik Ibsen  had  chosen  the  occupation  of  his  father 
and  grandfather,  and  the  ship  owned  and  com- 
manded by  him  went  down  with  every  soul  on 
board  off  Hesnaes  near  Grimstad,  —  that  is,  in  the 
quarter  where  the  scene  of  "  Terje  Vigen  "  is  laid. 
Only  fragments,  including  the  name-board  of  the 
ship,  drifted  ashore,  and  told  of  the  disaster.  A 
year  after  the  widow  married  a  shipmaster  named 
Ole  Paus,  and  to  him  she  bore  five  children. 
From  her  first  marriage  she  had  one  son,  Knud, 
the  poet's  father. 

His  mother's  name  was  Maria  Cornelia  Alten- 
burg.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a  wealthy  mer- 
chant of  Skien,  who  had  himself  begun  life,  after 
the  custom  of  the  time,  as  a  shipmaster.  He  also 
was  of  German  ancestry. 

In  all  four  of  these  generations,  then,  we  see 
that  foreign  blood  was  mingled  with  the  stock 
of  the  Danish  seaman,  —  German,  Scotch,  Ger- 
man, and  German  once  again.  Norse  admixture 
might  possibly  be  found  at  some  point  or  other 
if  the  genealogy  were  to  be  traced  back  on  the 
mother's  side,  but  not  a  single  drop  of  Norse 
blood  has  played  a  direct  part  in  the  formation 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  15 

of  Henrik  Ibsen's  temperament,  which  has,  never- 
theless, been  characterized  as  "  peculiarly  Norse." 

This  ancestry  sheds  a  light  upon  his  character; 
it  helps  to  explain  his  isolation  and  his  cosmo- 
politanism ;  it  enables  us  to  understand  how  it  is 
that  he  has  been  able  so  completely  to  separate 
himself  from  the  land  of  his  birth,  and  to  pass 
more  than  a  score  of  years  in  voluntary  exile. 

It  enables  us  also  to  discern  the  origin  of  even 
deeper  peculiarities  of  his  character. 

One  comes  almost  involuntarily  to  think  of  the 
Puritanism  and  idealism  that  have  played  so  es- 
sential a  part  in  Scotch  history,  and  made  such  an 
impress  upon  Scotch  philosophy,  when  dealing 
with  this  man,  whose  demands  upon  his  fellows 
are  as  uncompromising  as  are  those  of  the  idealist, 
and  whose  outlook  upon  the  world  is  as  sombre  as 
that  of  the  Puritan. 

And  then  the  German  influence !  The  German's 
tendency  towards  speculation,  his  liking  for  pure 
abstractions,  his  talent  for  systematic  and  logical 
thought,  has  not  all  this  left  a  mark  upon  Henrik 
Ibsen's  personality,  and  exerted  an  influence  over 
his  intellectual  development? 

If  we  seek  for  closer  information  concerning  the 
quarter  from  which  his  intellectual  inheritance  has 
come,  we  must  look  especially  to  the  women. 
Their  influence  has  evidently  been  the  most  potent. 


1 6  HENR1K  IBSEN. 

The  grandmother  appears  to  have  been  a  highly 
gifted  lady,  according  to  the  standard  of  her  time; 
she  was  deeply  interested  in  everything  that  was 
going  on  about  her  in  the  world ;  hers  was  an 
austere  and  serious  nature,  inclined  towards  re- 
ligion, not  at  that  time  a  general  trait  among  per- 
sons living  in  circles  like  hers.  Of  the  children 
of  her  second  marriage  we  are  told  that  they  were 
marked,  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  by  a  shy- 
ness and  reserve  that  made  them  difficult  of 
approach. 

The  mother  also  was  reserved  in  her  disposi- 
tion, finding  it  difficult  to  open  herself  to  others. 
This  characteristic  developed  with  years  into  a  shy- 
ness that  became  in  some  degree  the  inheritance 
of  her  children.1  One  of  them  thus  describes  her 
in  a  letter  to  the  author  of  this  book :  "  She  was 
a  quiet,  lovable  woman,  the  soul  of  the  household, 
and  everything  to  her  husband  and  children.  It 
was  not  in  her  to  be  bitter  or  reproachful."  In 
this  little  sketch  there  seems  to  lie  dormant  the 
germ  of  a  whole  series  of  Ibsen's  women. 

The  men  had  a  more  cheerful  temperament. 

The    grandfather  seems  to  have  had    an  active 

1  This  reserve  probably  came  into  the  race  with  the  Paus 
family;  for  the  old  Fru  Altenburg,  Ibsen's  mother's  mother,  was 
a  sister  of  the  Paus  with  whom  his  father's  mother  made  her  sec- 
ond marriage,  and  the  children  of  this  second  marriage  were 
characterized  by  just  such  a  reserve. 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  I? 

brain  and  lively  interests.  His  humor  was  cheer- 
ful, and  he  was  full  of  fun  and  jest,  it  is  said. 

The  father  inherited  his  mother's  austerity  and 
his  father's  vivacity.  They  were  combined  in  him 
in  the  form  of  a  keen  wit.  His  character  was 
cheerful  and  social,  his  intelligence  remarkable, 
and  his  wit  ever  ready  for  the  combat.  These 
qualities  made  him  popular  among  his  fellows,  but 
caused  him  to  be  feared  at  the  same  time ;  for  the 
words  which  he  let  fall  were  not  always  innocent, 
and  he  knew  how  to  say  bitter  and  unsparing  things 
about  people  who  had,  in  one  way  or  another, 
awakened  his  dislike.  It  was  evidently  from  him 
that  the  son  inherited  those  qualities  which  led 
him  to  write  "  Love's  Comedy  "  and  "  The  Young 
Men's  Union." 

Thus  conditioned  ancestrally,  Henrik  Ibsen  was 
born  at  Skien,  March  20,  1828,  the  first  child  of 
his  parents. 

Skien  was  then  as  now  a  simple  lumber  village. 
It  had  barely  three  thousand  inhabitants.  Small 
as  the  town  was,  its  life  was  varied,  and  its  com- 
mercial activity  considerable.  In  the  middle  of 
the  town  Knud  Ibsen  managed  an  extensive  and 
varied  business. 

Ibsen  himself  has  written  and  placed  at  my 
disposal  the  following  account  of  his  boyhood's 
surroundings :  — 


1 8  HENRI K  IBSEN 

"  At  the  time  when,  a  number  of  years  ago,  the  streets 
of  my  native  town  of  Skien  were  named,  —  or  perhaps 
rechristened,  —  the  honor  was  done  me  of  giving  to  one 
of  them  my  name.  At  least  report  has  said  so,  and  I 
have  been  told  of  it  by  trustworthy  travellers.  According 
to  their  accounts,  this  street  runs  from  the  marketplace 
down  to  the  sea,  or  '  muddringen.' l 

"  But  if  this  description  be  accurate,  I  cannot  imagine 
why  the  street  has  come  to  bear  my  name,  for  in  it  I  was 
neither  born  nor  did  I  ever  live.  On  the  contrary,  I  was 
born  in  a  court  near  the  market-place,  —  Stockmann's 
Court,  it  was  then  called.  This  court  faces  the  church, 
with  its  high  steps  and  its  noteworthy  tower.  At  the 
right  of  the  church  stood  the  town  pillory,  and  at  the  left 
the  town-hall,  with  the  lockup  and  the  madhouse.  The 
fourth  side  of  the  market-place  was  occupied  by  the 
common  and  the  Latin  schools.  The  church  stood  in  a 
clear  space  in  the  middle. 

"  This  prospect  made  up,  then,  the  first  view  of  the 
world  that  was  offered  to  my  sight.  It  was  all  architec- 
tural ;  there  was  nothing  green,  no  open  country  land- 
scape. But  the  air  above  this  four-cornered  enclosure  of 
wood  and  stone  was  filled,  the  whole  day  long,  with  the 
subdued  roar  of  the  Langefos,  the  Klosterfos,  and  the  many 
other  falls,  and  through  this  sound  there  pierced,  from 
morning  till  night,  something  that  resembled  the  cry  of 
women  in  keen  distress,  now  rising  to  a  shriek,  now 
subdued  to  a  moan.  It  was  the  sound  of  the  hun- 
dreds of  saws,  that  were  at  work  by  the  falls.  When  I 
read  of  the  guillotine  afterwards,  I  always  had  to  think 
of  these  saws. 

1  The  word  may  perhaps  be  translated  "mud-flats  "  —  TR. 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  1Q 

"  The  church  was  naturally  the  most  imposing  building 
of  the  town.  At  the  time  when,  one  Christmas  eve  near 
the  close  of  the  last  century,  Skien  was  set  on  fire  through 
the  carelessness  of  a  servant-maid,  the  church  which 
then  stood  there  burned  with  the  rest.  The  servant- 
maid  was,  as  might  easily  happen,  put  to  death.  But  the 
town,  rebuilt  with  straight  and  broad  streets  upon  the 
slopes  and  in  the  hollows  where  it  lies,  gained  thereby 
a  new  church,  of  which  the  inhabitants  boasted  with  a 
certain  pride  that  it  was  built  of  yellow  Dutch  clapboards, 
that  it  was  the  work  of  an  architect  from  Copenhagen, 
and  that  it  was  exactly  like  the  Kongsberg  church.  I 
was  not  able  at  that  time  fully  to  appreciate  these  advan- 
tages, but  my  mind  was  deeply  impressed  by  a  white, 
stout,  and  heayy-limbed  angel,  with  a  bowl  in  his  hand, 
on  week-days  suspended  high  up  under  the  roof,  but  on 
Sundays,  when  children  were  to  be  baptized,  lowered 
gently  into  our  midst. 

"  Even  more  than  by  the  white  angel  in  the  church,  my 
thoughts  were  occupied  by  the  black  poodle  who  lived 
at  the  top  of  the  tower,  where  the  watchman  called  out 
the  hours  of  the  night.  It  had  glowing  red  eyes,  but  was 
not  often  seen ;  in  fact,  it  appeared,  as  far  as  I  know, 
upon  one  occasion  only.  It  was  a  New  Year's  night,  and 
the  watchman  had  just  called  '  One  '  from  the  window 
in  the  front  of  the  tower.  Just  then  the  black  poodle 
came  up  the  tower  steps  behind  him,  stood  for  a  moment, 
and  glared  at  him  with  the  fiery  eyes,  —  that  was  all,  but 
the  watchman  at  once  fell  head  foremost  out  of  the  tower- 
window  down  into  the  market-place,  where  he  was  seen 
lying  dead  next  morning  by  all  the  pious  folk  who  went 
to  the  early  New  Year's  service.  Since  that  night  no 


2O  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

watchman  has  ever  called  out  *  One '  from  that  window 
in  the  tower  of  Skien  church. 

"  This  incident  of  the  watchman  and  the  poodle  occurred 
long  before  my  time,  and  I  have  since  heard  of  such  things 
having  happened  in  various  other  Norwegian  churches,  in 
the  days  of  old.  But  the  tower-window  in  question  has 
stood  prominently  in  my  memory  since  I  was  a  child,  be- 
cause from  it  I  got  my  first  deep  and  lasting  impression. 
For  my  nurse  took  me  up  into  the  tower  one  day,  and  let 
me  sit  right  in  the  open  window,  held  from  behind,  of 
course,  by  her  stout  arms.  I  remember  distinctly  how  it 
struck  me  to  see  the  crowns  of  the  people's  hats ;  I  looked 
down  into  our  own  rooms,  saw  the  window-frames  and 
curtains,  saw  my  mother  standing  at  one  of  the  windows ; 
I  could  even  see  over  the  roof  of  the  house  into  the  yard, 
where  our  brown  horse  stood  tied  near  the  barn-door  and 
was  whisking  his  tail.  1  remember  that  on  the  side  of 
the  barn  there  hung  a  bright  tin  pail.  Then  there  was  a 
running  about,  and  a  beckoning  from  our  front  door,  and 
the  nurse  pulled  me  hastily  in,  and  hurried  downstairs 
with  me.  I  do  not  remember  the  rest,  but  I  was  often 
told  afterwards  that  my  mother  had  caught  sight  of  me  up 
in  the  tower-window,  that  she  had  shrieked,  had  fainted, — 
as  was  common  enough  then,  —  and,  having  got  hold  of 
me  again,  had  wept,  and  kissed  and  caressed  me.  As  a 
boy,  I  never  after  that  crossed  the  market-place  without 
looking  up  to  the  tower-window.  I  felt  that  the  window 
especially  concerned  me  and  the  church  poodle. 

"  I  have  preserved  but  one  other  recollection  from 
those  early  years.  Among  the  gifts  at  my  christening 
there  was  a  big  silver  coin  bearing  the  image  of  a  man's 
head.  The  man  had  a  high  forehead,  a  large  hooked 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  21 

nose,  and  a  projecting  under  lip ;  furthermore,  his  neck 
was  bare,  which  I  thought  singular.  The  nurse  told  me 
that  the  man  on  the  coin  was  '  King  Fredrik  Rex.' 
Upon  one  occasion  I  took  to  rolling  the  coin  on  the 
floor,  and,  as  an  unfortunate  consequence,  it  rolled  into 
a  crack.  I  believe  that  my  parents  saw  an  evil  omen  in 
this,  since  it  was  a  christening  gift.  The  floor  was  torn 
up,  and  thorough  and  deep  search  was  made,  but  King 
Fredrik  Rex  never  again  saw  the  light  of  day.  For  a 
long  time  afterwards  I  looked  upon  myself  as  a  grave 
criminal,  and  whenever  Peter  Tysker,  the  town  policeman, 
came  out  of  the  town  hall  and  across  to  our  front  door, 
I  ran  as  hurriedly  as  I  could  into  the  nursery,  and  hid 
under  the  bed. 

"We  did  not  live  long  in  the  court  by  the  market- 
place. My  father  bought  a  bigger  house,  into  which  we 
moved  when  I  was  about  four  years  old.  My  new  home 
was  on  a  corner,  a  little  farther  up  town,  just  at  the  foot 
of  the  '  Hundevad  '  hill,  named  after  an  old  German- 
speaking  doctor,  whose  imposing  wife  drove  a  '  glass 
coach,'  that  was  transformed  into  a  sleigh  for  winter. 
There  were  many  large  rooms  in  this  house,  both  up  and 
down  stairs,  and  we  lived  a  very  sociable  life  there.  But 
we  boys  were  not  much  within  doors.  The  market- 
place, where  the  two  biggest  schools  were  situated,  was 
the  natural  meeting-place  and  field  of  battle  for  the  village 
youth.  Rector  Oern,  an  old  and  lovable  man,  ruled  in 
the  Latin  school  at  that  time  ;  in  the  common  school 
there  was  Iver  Flasrud,  the  beadle,  also  an  imposing  old 
fellow,  who  filled  the  post  of  village  barber  as  well.  The 
boys  of  these  two  schools  had  a  good  many  warmly 
contested  battles  around  the  church,  but  as  I  belonged 


22  HENKIK  IBSEN. 

to  neither,  I  was  generally  present  as  a  mere  onlooker. 
For  the  rest,  I  was  not  much  given  to  fighting  as  a  boy. 
I  was  much  more  attracted  by  the  pillory,  already  men- 
tioned, and  by  the  town  hall,  with  its  gloomy  mysteries. 
The  pillory  was  a  reddish-brown  post,  of  about  a  man's 
height ;  on  top  there  was  a  big  round  knob,  that  had 
been  black  at  one  time ;  it  now  looked  like  an  inviting 
and  benevolent  human  face,  a  little  awry.  From  the 
front  of  the  post  hung  an  iron  chain,  and  from  this  an 
open  bow,  which  always  seemed  to  me  like  two  small 
arms,  ready  to  grasp  my  neck  with  the  greatest  of  pleasure. 
It  had  not  been  used  for  many  years,  but  I  remember 
well  that  it  stood  there  all  the  time  that  I  lived  in  Skien. 
Whether  or  not  it  is  still  there,  I  do  not  know. 

"  And  then  there  was  the  town  hall.  Like  the  church, 
it  had  high  steps.  Underneath  there  were  dungeon 
cells,  with  grated  windows  looking  into  the  market-place. 
Within  the  bars  I  have  seen  many  pale  and  sinister  faces. 
One  room  in  the  basement  of  the  town  hall  was  called 
the  madhouse,  and  was  really,  strange  as  it  now  seems  to 
me,  at  one  time  used  for  the  confinement  of  the  insane. 
This  room  had  a  grated  window  like  the  others,  but  inside 
the  grating  the  whole  opening  was  filled  by  a  heavy  iron 
plate,  perforated  with  small  round  holes,  so  that  it  looked 
like  a  colander.  Furthermore,  this  cell  was  said  to  have 
served  for  the  confinement  of  a  criminal  named  Brandeis, 
much  talked  of  at  the  time  and  afterwards  branded.  It 
was  also  inhabited,  I  believe,  by  a  life-convict,  who  had 
escaped,  was  recaptured,  and  flogged  out  on  the  Li  mar- 
ket-ground. Of  this  latter,  eye-witnesses  related  that  he 
danced  when  he  was  led  to  the  place  of  punishment,  but 
had  to  be  drawn  back  to  the  lockup  in  a  cart. 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  23 

"  In  my  boyhood  Skien  was  a  lively  and  sociable  town, 
entirely  different  from  what  it  was  afterwards  to  become. 
Many  highly-gifted,  prominent,  and  respected  families 
then  dwelt,  both  in  the  town  itself,  and  on  great  farms  in 
the  neighborhood.  These  families  were  mutually  bound 
together  by  relationships,  more  or  less  near,  and  balls, 
daytime  companies,  and  musical  assemblies  followed  one 
upon  another  in  close  succession,  both  summer  and  win- 
ter. Also  many  travellers  came  to  town,  and,  there  being 
then  no  inns,  the  visitors  stopped  with  friends  and  rela- 
tives. We  nearly  always  had  visiting  strangers  in  our 
spacious  place,  and  especially  at  Christmas  and  fair  time 
our  rooms  were  full,  and  open  house  the  rule  from  morning 
till  evening.  The  Skien  Fair  came  off  in  February,  and 
it  was  a  happy  time  for  us  boys.  We  began  to  save  up 
our  skillings  six  months  beforehand  for  the  jugglers,  and 
rope-dancers,  and  circus-riders,  and  for  the  purchase  of 
honey-cakes  in  the  fair  booths.  I  do  not  know  if  this 
fair  did  much  for  trade  ;  I  think  of  it  as  of  a  great  popular 
festival,  lasting  the  whole  week  through. 

"  In  those  years  not  much  account  was  made  of  the 
1 7th  of  May 1  in  Skien.  A  few  young  men  shot  with 
pop-guns  out  on  Blege  Hill,  or  burned  fireworks ;  that 
was  about  all.  I  have  an  idea  that  this  reserve  in  our 
otherwise  demonstrative  townspeople  was  due  to  consid- 
eration for  a  certain  highly-esteemed  gentleman,  who  had 
a  country-seat  in  the  neighborhood,  and  whose  head  was 
respected  for  various  reasons. 

"  But  it  was  all  the  merrier  on  St.  John's  eve.2     This 

1  May  17,  1814,  the  date  of  adoption  of  the  Norwegian  con- 
stitution. 

2  Midsummer  eve,  June  23. 


24  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

was  not  celebrated  by  all  the  people  together,  but  the 
boys  and  the  grown-up  people  grouped  themselves  into 
five,  six,  or  more  companies,  each  of  which  worked  to 
collect  the  material  for  its  own  bonfire.  From  as  early 
as  Whitsuntide  we  used  to  go  in  crowds  around  the 
wharves  and  shops  to  beg  tar-barrels.  In  this  matter  a 
peculiar  custom  had  reigned  from  time  immemorial. 
Whatever  we  could  not  get  freely  given  us  was  stolen, 
without  either  owner  or  police  ever  thinking  to  complain 
of  this  sort  of  violence.  A  company  could  thus  by 
degrees  collect  a  whole  stack  of  empty  tar-barrels.  We 
had  the  same  time-honored  right  to  old  barges.  When- 
ever we  found  them  ashore,  if  we  could  succeed  in  get- 
ting one  quietly  away,  and  well  concealing  it,  we  thereby 
acquired  the  right  of  possession,  or,  at  least,  our  claims 
were  not  contested.  The  day  before  St.  John's  eve  the 
barge  was  borne  in  triumph  through  the  streets  to  the 
place  of  the  bonfire.  A  fiddler  sat  up  in  the  barge.  I 
have  often  witnessed  and  taken  part  in  such  processions." 

What  Ibsen  has  thus  told  us  is  sufficient  to  give 
an  idea  of  the  sort  of  impressions  which  his  youth 
received.  The  sad  and  the  heavy  preponderate. 
The  solemnity  of  the  church,  the  cheerlessness  of 
the  lockup,  the  severity  of  the  pillory,  the  terror  of 
the  madhouse,  —  these  were  impressions  which 
were  certainly  capable  of  casting  a  shadow  over 
the  joyousness  of  youth,  awakening  seriousness 
and  an  early  habit  of  thought,  even  when  we 
take  account  of  the  opposing  influences  of  Fair 
diversions  and  St.  John's  eve  bonfires. 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  2$ 

Skien  has  had  for  a  long  time  the  credit  of  being 
a  very  religious  community,  and  sectarian  move- 
ments have  found  here  one  of  their  most  grateful 
fields  of  activity.  The  town  was  famous  in  the 
last  century  as  a  nursery  of  pietism,  and  it  was 
here  that  Pastor  Lammers  labored,  giving  rise  to 
the  movement  that  since  has  borne  his  name. 
From  Skien  as  a  focus  it  spread  over  the  country 
and  made  a  general  stir  in  the  religious  conscious- 
ness. Naturally  the  movement  was  strongest  in 
Skien  itself,  and  with  it  Ibsen  was  brought  into 
intimate  relations,  since  a  number  of  his  closest 
kindred  were  affected  by  it.  Recollections  and 
experiences  of  this  period  of  unrest  provided,  in 
part,  the  material  for  "  Brand." 

The  germ  of  another  of  Ibsen's  works  —  "  The 
Young  Men's  Union "  —  has  been  sought,  not 
without  reason,  in  the  impressions  of  his  native 
town.  For  the  town  had  its  aristocracy,  consisting 
of  the  officials  and  the  wealthy,  old-established 
families  of  the  neighborhood ;  the  rest  were  ple- 
beians. Between  these  two  classes  there  was 
raised  a  barrier  as  insurmountable  as  that  be- 
tween the  burghers  and  the  nobles  of  a  small 
German  State  of  the  last  century.  It  was  im- 
possible to  pass  this  barrier  by  means  of  ability 
and  force;  every  one  who  seemed  to  succeed  in 
so  doing  was  looked  upon  as  a  parvenu,  d  la  Pro  - 


26  HENR1K  IBSEN. 

prietaer  Monsen,  —  however  secure  might  seem  his 
position.  On  the  other  hand,  it  was  easy  enough 
to  be  put  without  the  circle  when  a  man's  circum- 
stances became  so  reduced  as  to  no  longer  warrant 
his  admission. 

The  Ibsen  household  ranked  with  the  aristoc- 
racy both  by  its  situation  and  its  connections,  and 
it  was,  in  Ibsen's  earliest  childhood,  a  centre  of 
the  social  life  of  the  town.  Knud  Ibsen  was  a  man 
whose  wit  and  other  social  gifts  enabled  him  to 
gather  people  about  him ;  and  he  was,  besides,  a 
liberal  host,  taking  great  satisfaction  in  maintain- 
ing a  large  and  open  house. 

But  when  Henrik  Ibsen  was  eight  years  old 
there  came  a  sudden  end  to  this  life  of  comfort 
The  father  was  obliged  to  turn  his  property  over 
to  his  creditors,  and  all  that  the  family  retained 
after  their  demands  had  been  satisfied  was  Ven- 
stob  farm,  —  a  small  estate,  neglected  and  in  bad 
repair,  just  out  of  town.  Here  the  family  took 
refuge  after  the  catastrophe,  and  their  life  here 
was  marked  by  an  economy  and  a  retirement  that 
stood  in  the  sharpest  contrast  to  its  previous 
splendor.  If  the  family  had  previously  paid  little 
heed  to  the  social  distinctions  existing  in  the  little 
town,  they  were  now  made  to  feel  them  all  the 
more  in  the  days  of  their  reverse.  The  new  con- 
dition of  things  doubtless  cast  a  dark  shadow  upon 


CHILDHOOD  AATD    YOUTH.  2J 

the  little  home,  and  next  to  his  parents  Henrik 
Ibsen,  as  the  oldest  of  the  children,  was  the  one  to 
feel  it  most  keenly.  He  had  been  suddenly  put 
outside,  and  early  gained  the  experience  to  which 
he  gave  expression  in  1850  in  one  of  his  first 
poems :  — 

"  Either  must  them  at  life's  feast 
Sit  at  table  as  a  guest, 
Or  a  looker-on  stand  staring 
Through  the  lighted  window-pane, 
In  the  cold  and  wind  and  rain, 
Outside,  not  to  enter  daring." 

Certain  it  is,  in  any  case,  that  attention  was  drawn 
at  an  early  age  to  his  seriousness,  so  unnatural  in  a 
boy.  He  did  not  play  like  the  other  children. 
When  his  four  younger  brothers  and  sisters  strove 
with  one  another  in  play  out  in  the  yard,  he 
sought  refuge  from  their  thoughtless  pranks  in  a 
little  room  opening  upon  a  passage  which  led  to 
the  kitchen,  and  fastened  the  door  with  a  hasp. 
He  sat  here,  not  only  in  summer,  but  in  the  coldest 
of  the  winter.  "  For  us,"  his  sister  writes  in  the 
letter  already  mentioned,  "  he  was  not  a  comforta- 
ble boy  to  get  along  with,  and  we  used  to  bother 
him  regularly  by  throwing  stones  and  snowballs 
at  the  wall  and  door  to  get  him  to  come  out  and 
play  with  us ;  and  when  he  could  not  stand  our 
siege  any  longer,  he  would  rush  out  and  after  us ; 
but  he  was  not  skilful  at  any  sort  of  sport,  and 


28  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

violence  was  very  far  from  his  character,  so  noth- 
ing came  of  his  appearance,  and  when  he  had 
chased  us  far  enough  off  he  went  back  into  his 
closet." 

What  was  he  about  in  there? 

First  and  foremost,  he  busied  himself  over  a  lot 
of  old  books  he  had  got  hold  of.  In  this  closet 
he  became  acquainted  with  the  old  book  of  which 
Hedwig  speaks  in  the  third  act  of  "  The  Wild 
Duck,"  and  the  words  which  he  places  in  her 
mouth  may  certainly  be  reckoned  as  a  personal 
recollection  from  his  childhood. 

"  And  do  you  read  in  the  books  ? "  asks 
Gregers. 

"  Yes,  when  I  can  manage  it;  but  most  of 
them  are  in  English,  and  I  do  not  know  that.  I 
look  at  the  pictures,  however.  There  is  a  big, 
heavy  book  called  '  Harrison's  History  of  Lon- 
don; '  it  is  certainly  a  hundred  years  old,  and 
there  are  such  a  lot  of  pictures  in  it.  At  the 
beginning  there  is  a  picture  of  death  with  an 
hour-glass  and  a  maiden.  I  think  that  is  horrid. 
But  then  there  are  all  the  other  pictures,  with 
churches,  and  castles,  and  streets,  and  great  ships 
sailing  on  the  sea." 

When  he  was  not  at  his  books  he  occupied  him- 
self with  —  magic  arts.  "  He  got  leave  to  appear 
on  certain  Sunday  afternoons  as  a  magician  in 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  2Q 

one  of  the  rooms  of  the  house,"  we  read  in  the 
letter,  "  and  all  the  neighbors  around  were  invited 
to  witness  the  performance.  I  see  him  distinctly, 
in  his  short  jacket,  standing  behind  a  large  chest 
that  was  decorated  and  draped  for  the  occasion, 
and  where  he  presided  over  performances  that 
appeared  like  witchcraft  to  the  amazed  spectators. 
Of  course  no  one  knew  that  Henrik's  younger 
brother,  well  paid  for  his  assistance,  was  inside 
the  chest.  The  brother  had  stipulated  for  pay  by 
threatening  a  scandal  if  it  were  withheld ;  and  as 
that  would  have  been,  to  a  boy  with  Henrik's 
disposition,  the  most  dreadful  thing  that  could 
have  happened,  he  always  promised  everything 
that  the  other  demanded." 

He  also  busied  himself  with  pencil  and  water- 
colors.  He  drew  a  great  many  figures,  gor- 
geously clad,  on  pasteboard.  These  were  cut  out, 
fastened  to  bits  of  wood,  so  that  they  could  stand 
on  their  own  legs,  and  arranged  in  various  groups, 
—  some  busily  conversing,  others  in  serious  atti- 
tudes, with  a  mien  that  made  it  evident  that  some- 
thing important  was  on  foot.  These  were  the 
first  scenic  arrangements  of  the  future  dramatist. 

The  only  out-door  pleasure  that  he  cared  for 
was  building.  At  times  he  was  very  busy  at  this. 
"  I  remember  among  other  things  a  fort,"  his 
sister  writes.  "  It  seemed  to  me  then  a  great 


3O  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

work  of  art,  and  he  and  his  younger  brother  had 
worked  at  it  for  a  long  time.  But  the  fort  was  not 
destined  to  stand ;  as  soon  as  completed  it  was 
stormed  and  demolished."  Probably  he  had  been 
reading  of  some  historical  event,  and  had  taken 
this  means  of  giving  it  reality. 

He  attended  a  real-school  in  Skien,  conducted 
by  two  candidates  in  theology.  Here  he  learned 
the  common  branches,  and  a  little  Latin.  He  was 
especially  interested  in  the  religious  instructions, 
and  would  sit  for  hours  with  his  text-book,  hunt- 
ing up  in  the  Bible  the  passages  referred  to. 

When  he  was  fourteen  the  family  moved  back 
into  Skien ;  he  was  confirmed  shortly  afterwards, 
and  then  left  home  to  earn  his  living  and  make 
his  way  in  the  world.  Under  such  economical 
conditions  as  had  been  his  lot,  there  can  be  no 
question  of  choosing  the  profession  to  which  one 
is  most  inclined.  One  must  put  up  with  that 
which  can  be  had  at  the  least  expense,  and  that 
gives  the  most  speedy  promise  of  support. 

Ibsen  wished  to  become  an  artist,  and  had  de- 
voted himself  with  growing  enthusiasm  to  painting 
and  drawing;  he  even  kept  up  these  occupations 
after  his  appearance  as  an  author.  Of  how 
marked  his  talents  in  this  direction  were,  it  is  at 
present  impossible  to  form  an  opinion,  as  I  have 
not  been  able  to  trace  a  single  one  of  his  artistic 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUl^H.  3* 

efforts.1  But  that  it  was  more  than  a  fancy  with 
him  is  shown  by  the  deep  interest  in  plastic  art 
which  he  has  kept  through  the  years.  Paintings 
have  been  the  only  things  that  he  has  cared  to 
possess  all  the  way  down  to  the  present  time,  and 
during  his  frequent  and  long  sojourns  in  Italy  he 
has  made  a  very  pretty  collection  of  renaissance 
pictures.  He  is  very  proud  of  this  collection,  and 
has  taken  it  with  him,  regardless  of  cost,  wherever 
he  has  settled  down  for  any  length  of  time.  His 
fine  and  unerring  judgment  of  plastic  art  also  dis- 
closes in  him  the  painters  disposition. 

In  his  youth,  however,  there  could  of  course  be 
no  question  of  the  cultivation  of  this  talent;  the 
circumstances  of  his  family  were  too  restricted  to 
admit  of  such  a  thing,  and  so  he  was  sent  to  the 
Grimstad  apothecary  to  serve  an  apprenticeship 
as  a  pharmacist.  At  the  age  of  sixteen  he  left 
nis  native  town  and  his  family,  never  to  return  to 
them  except  for  one  or  two  brief  visits. 

What  had  he  received  from  life  there  at  home 
in  his  native  town?  It  had  laid  a  burden  upon 
his  mind.  It  had  aroused  in  him  a  feeling  of  re- 
pugnance for  all  those  instruments  of  coercion 
that  society  brings  to  bear  upon  those  who,  by 

1  Botten-Hansen,  in  a  biographical  sketch  published  in  the  "  II- 
lustreret  Nyhedsblad  "  for  1863,  calls  him  "  a  not  unsuccessful 
dilettante  painter." 

3 


32  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

their  own  fault,  or  by  the  force  of  circumstances, 
come  into  conflict  with  the  general  order  of  things. 
The  prison,  the  madhouse,  the  pillory,  and  pub- 
lic opinion  had  impressed  themselves  as  so  many 
threats  upon  his  consciousness.  The  contrast 
between  poverty  and  affluence  had  been  made  one 
of  his  first  experiences;  he  had  learned  to  know 
both  before  he  was  old  enough  to  think  clearly 
about  them,  and  he  had  early  been  made  to  feel 
the  difference  that  exists  socially  between  the  poor 
and  the  rich.  All  this  had  developed  that  reserve 
to  which  he  had  inherited  a  tendency;  it  had 
taught  him  to  keep  his  own  counsel,  had  made 
him  quiet,  serious,  and  taciturn. 

Life  for  him  did  not  mean  intercourse  with 
others ;  his  life  was  in  the  world  of  thought  and 
of  dreams. 

Thus  accoutred  he  left  his  native  town  and 
went  to  his  new  dwelling-place.  This  was,  as  has 
been  said,  when  he  was  entering  upon  his  six- 
teenth year,  and  he  remained  there  until  he  was 
nearly  twenty-two.  Thus  he  spent  more  than  five 
years  in  this  corner. 

Grimstad  is  an  even  smaller  town  than  Skien. 
When  Ibsen  was  there  it  did  not  have  more  than 
eight  hundred  inhabitants. 

Like  most  Norwegian  towns  to  the  eastward  of 
Kristianssand,  it  is  a  little  village  of  ship-owners, 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  33 

substantial  and  well-to-do.  And  with  success 
comes  comfort.  In  a  little  village  like  this  the 
thought  of  the  inhabitants  does  not  fly  far;  when 
they  step  over  the  threshold  it  is  usually  to  inquire 
"  whether  the  sloop  has  gotten  over,"  or  about 
the  latest  freight-quotations.  Rarely,  when  great 
events  are  happening  in  the  outside  world,  they 
cast  some  feeble  waves  against  these  coast  towns, 
and  those  especially  interested  exchange  a  word 
or  two  about  the  latest  news  when  they  meet  one 
another  in  the  street.  This  done,  they  shake  their 
heads  and  pass  on.  In  such  a  town  there  is  one 
club,  one  apothecary,  one  barber,  and  one  inn. 
The  apothecary  is  the  town  exchange,  where  all 
the  idlers  gather  and  discuss  the  events  of  the 
day,  local  matters  especially,  always  of  most  in- 
terest. Every  one  knows  his  neighbors  inside  and 
out.  No  jot  of  a  man's  private  affairs  is  concealed. 
And  they  all  salute  one  another;  the  richest  man 
gets  the  lowest  bow,  the  next  richest  the  next  low- 
est, and  so  down  the  scale  to  the  common  laborer, 
who  only  gets  a  nod,  while  he  himself  stands  re- 
spectfully, hat  in  hand.  A  stranger,  coming  to 
such  a  town,  is  astonished  at  the  respectful  salu- 
tations given  him  by  the  poor  people  whom  he 
meets ;  all  this  cringing  makes  him  ill  at  ease. 
This  is  because  he  does  not  understand  such 
patriarchal  customs;  but  the  unsophisticated  vil- 


34  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

lager  understands  them,  and  he  finds  it  obviously 
wise  to  observe  them  when  he  meets  a  well-dressed 
stranger  in  the  street,  whether  he  know  him  or  not, 
for  one  can  never  tell  how  great  a  personage  the 
stranger  may  be.  In  such  a  town  everything 
moves  slowly,  quietly,  and  smoothly  on ;  there  is 
plenty  of  time,  and  haste  makes  waste.  If  a  thing 
is  not  done  to-day,  it  can  be  done  to-morrow.  All 
that  is  not  customary  is  excess ;  personal  peculiar- 
ities are  reckoned  as  faults ;  any  display  of  energy 
is  regarded  as  eccentricity,  and  eccentricity  is  a 
crime. 

But  the  sea  stretches  without,  free  and  mighty, 
bringing  wealth,  and  wreckage,  and  the  latest 
Parisian  fashions  to  the  snug  little  town,  from  the 
great  restless  world  in  the  distance. 

Such  are  these  little  towns  even  yet,  and  such 
was  certainly  this  one  in  Ibsen's  youth  and  long 
afterwards. 

From  the  sketch  given  by  Ibsen  in  his  preface 
to  the  second  edition  of  "  Catilina,"  we  know  what 
was  his  life  in  this  little  community.  We  know 
that  these  five  years  were  a  period  of  growth  and 
unrest  in  his  life.  He  formed  bold  plans  for  the 
future,  and  was  swayed  by  ambitious  ideas.  He 
would  not  be  content  with  being  a  pharmacist;  he 
would,  to  begin  with,  climb  a  round  higher  up  the 
social  ladder,  become  a  student,  and  study  medi- 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  35 

cine.  And  at  the  same  time  his  poetic  faculty 
gave  its  first  signs  of  life ;  he  had  to  steal  the 
hours  he  spent  in  study,  and  from  these  stolen 
study  hours,  he  again  stole  minutes  for  poetry. 

This  was  in  1848  and  1849.  The  February 
Revolution,  and  the  political  events  to  which  it 
gave  rise  in  other  lands,  put  all  Europe  into  com- 
motion, and  the  disturbance  was  mirrored  in 
young  Henrik  Ibsen's  mind.  He  followed  the 
march  of  events  as  well  as  a  Grimstad  apothecary's 
apprentice  could,  and  with  youthful  ardor  he  took 
sides  with  all  who  fought  for  freedom  and  against 
the  oppressor.  This  spirit  appears  in  his  poems 
written  during  that  period. 

When,  in  August,  1849,  the  Magyars  suffered 
their  overwhelming  defeat,  he  wrote  a  glowing 
poem  "  To  Hungary,"  in  which  he  gave  expression 
to  his  grief  at  Hungary's  and  freedom's  defeat. 
At  the  close,  however,  he  found  consolation  in  the 
thought  that  the  vanquished  Hungarian  heroes  — 
like  the  Poles,  and  like  those  who,  on  the  scaffold, 
drenched  German  earth  with  their  blood  —  would 
stand  as  shining  examples  for  the  coming 
generation. 

"  When  the  strength  of  younger  races,  on  the  throne  avenging 

hurled, 

Mighty  as  an  autumn  tempest,  drives  the  tyrant  from  the  world, 
Shall  the  name  of  Magyar  a  noble  watchword  for  us  be, 
And  the  shades  of  fallen  heroes  lead  us  on  to  victory  !  " 


36  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

At  this  time  he  wrote  also  the  series  of  sonnets 
about  the  war  between  Germany  and  Denmark, 
which  are  mentioned  in  the  preface  to  "  Catilina." 
There  were  twelve  of  them  in  all,  and  they  bore 
the  resounding  title  :  "  Scandinavians,  Awake  !  An 
appeal  to  the  Norwegian  and  Swedish  Brothers." 
This  was  a  sort  of  precursor  of  "  A  Brother  in 
Need,"  and  in  it  the  youthful  writer  enthusiastically 
proclaimed  that  Norway  and  Sweden  must  come 
to  Denmark's  help,  if  they  would  maintain  their 
honor,  and  secure  their  future  as  independent 
states. 

That  a  young  man  in  a  subordinate  position 
should  entertain  such  ideas  and  put  them  into 
verse  was  obviously  a  fact  that  could  not  escape 
notice  in  such  a  "  crow-corner  "  —especially  as  he 
did  not  refrain,  "  upon  more  exalted  occasions," 
from  expressing  himself  in  conversation  with  a 
passion  in  consonance  with  his  verse. 

Nothing  more  was  needed  to  mark  him  out  for 
attention.  That  a  raw  apprentice  to  an  apothecary 
should  dare,  in  the  presence  of  his  elders,  to  talk 
of  subjects  concerning  which  they  did  not  them- 
selves dare  to  have  an  opinion,  —  this  was  too 
audacious ! 

But  the  matter  did  not  rest  here.  Having  once 
put  himself  into  antagonism  to  his  surroundings, 
Ibsen  was  not  the  man  to  shrink  from  battle.  He 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  37 

had  the  modest  man's  shyness  about  putting  him- 
self forward,  and  the  diffident  man's  terror  of 
causing  scandal  and  exciting  derision;  but  for  this 
very  reason  he  felt  it  to  be  a  significant  fact  that 
his  sayings  should  cause  offence  and  awaken  laugh- 
ter ;  and,  instead  of  yielding  to  attack,  he  assumed 
the  offensive  himself.  The  young  and  undeveloped 
genius,  with  the  confidence  of  youth,  held  his  own 
in  this  nest  of  narrow  conservatism.  "  Truth  com- 
pels me  to  say,"  he  humorously  observes  in  the 
preface  to  "  Catilina,"  "  that  my  actions,  under 
these  circumstances,  were  not  such  as  were  calcu- 
lated to  arouse  any  great  hope  that  society  would, 
as  a  result  of  my  efforts,  be  a  gainer  in  civic  virtue ; 
for  I  fell  out  with  many,  on  account  of  epigrams 
and  caricature-sketches,  who  deserved  better  of  me, 
and  whose  friendship  I  prized  at  heart.  Altogether, 
while  a  heavy  storm  was  raging  without,  I  found 
myself  on  a  war-footing  with  the  little  community 
to  which  I  was  bound  by  circumstances." 

It  may  be  said  that  this  war  was  but  a  tempest 
in  a  teapot ;  yet  how  characteristic  of  Ibsen  it  was  ! 
how  distinctly  it  indicated  his  subsequent  attitude 
towards  society ! 

The  relation  between  society  and  the  individual 
is  usually  considered  to  be  a  peaceful  one.  Society 
is  an  agreement  between  its  individual  members  to 
do  and  to  leave  undone  certain  things ;  the  welfare 


38  HENRIK  IBSEN 

of  the  whole  being  the  welfare  of  its  parts.  Soci- 
ety protects  the  individual,  upon  condition  that  the 
individual  fulfil  certain  obligations  towards  society, 
—  obligations  whose  purpose  is  to  strengthen  and 
sustain  the  system  of  mutual  protection  upon  which 
the  permanence  of  society  depends,  and  to  secure 
the  regular  and  healthful  progress  which  is  its 
aim. 

But  the  relation  between  society  and  the  indi- 
vidual is  not,  after  all,  quite  so  idyllic  and  peaceful 
as  this  view  would  have  it ;  there  are  shadows  as  well, 
and  the  darkest  of  them  is  the  tendency  of  society  to 
encroach  unduly  upon  the  individual.  Society  has 
a  tendency  to  exert  its  regulative  influence  over 
territories  with  which  it  is  not  concerned,  —  a  ten- 
dency to  impose  laws  upon  the  individual  in  fields 
where  he  has  a  right  to  be  his  own  master.  In 
matters  of  opinion  and  conviction,  for  'example, 
the  individual  should  be  sovereign ;  and  yet  here 
society  tends  to  make  a  standard  of  the  judgment 
of  the  majority,  and  to  condemn  those  individuals 
who  refuse  to  recognize  it.  And  the  smaller  the 
society,  the  greater  the  number  of  these  regions 
does  it  seek  to  control,  —  the  greater  is  its  incli- 
nation to  set  rules  in  matters  where  individuality 
should  be  its  own  rule;  the  less  willing  it  is  to 
admit  that  the  exception  may  be  justified.  In  this 
there  lies  a  danger,  not  merely  for  individual  free- 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  39 

dom,  but  for  society  itself,  for  social  progress  de- 
pends upon  originality,  and  originality  is  in  its. 
very  nature  exceptional.  Genius  is  the  most  im- 
portant and  necessary  of  all  exceptions ;  and  when 
society  so  narrows  itself  as  to  leave  no  place  for 
genius,  it  becomes  necessary  to  revolt  against  so- 
ciety and  to  oppose  the  principle  of  the  excep- 
tional to  the  tyranny  of  custom.  Individually 
viewed,  the  relation  between  the  individual  and 
society  thus  becomes,  not  a  friendly  relation  for 
mutual  benefit,  but  an  opposed  and  hostile  rela- 
tion. Society  appears  to  the  individual  as  a  tyrant, 
not  a  protector,  —  as  a  hindrance,  not  an  aid  to  per- 
sonal development,  and  its  conventions  as  instru- 
ments of  torture,  to  rack  or  compress  individuality 
into  conformity  with  the  set  standard.  This  is  the 
view  that  has  led  to  the  anarchistic  social  theories 
of  our  age. 

To  such  a  relation  with  his  environment  Henrik 
Ibsen  felt  that  he  had  come  during  his  appren- 
ticeship at  Grimstad ;  and  there  already  dawned 
upon  his  mind,  dimly  and  with  the  uncertain 
light  of  youth,  the  view  that  was  to  illumine  so 
clearly  a  whole  series  of  the  works  of  his  ripest 
manhood. 

Under  such  circumstances,  in  the  preparation 
for  his  examen  artium,  he  studied  Sallust's  "  Cati- 
line "  and  Cicero's  "  Orations  against  Catiline." 


4O  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

He  devoured  these  accounts  of  the  old  Roman 
anarchist ;  and.  through  the  moralizing  and  hypo- 
critical indignation  of  Sallust,  and  the  rhetorical 
pleading  of  Cicero,  there  appeared  to  him  a  pic- 
ture of  Catiline  in  revolt  against  society,  —  a  pic- 
ture that  in  more  than  one  respect  foreshadowed 
his  own  future  development. 

Vasenius  has  set  himself  the  task  of  proving 
that  the  Catiline  .of  Ibsen's  drama  is  a  true  rep- 
resentation of  the  historic  personage  of  that 
name,  or,  as  he  expresses  it,  "  that  the  intuition 
of  this  youthful  poet  led  him  to  grasp,  with  his- 
torical accuracy,  the  fundamental  motive  of  Cati- 
line's character."  But,  however  interesting  this 
question  may  be  from  an  aesthetic  standpoint,  it 
has  little  psychological  value,  because  it  does 
not  enlighten  us  as  to  the  poet's  relation  to  the 
material  that  lay  before  him.  The  poet  of  "  Cati- 
lina  "  had  no  inkling  of  those  historical  researches 
to  which  the  Finnish  critic  appeals.  He  knew 
only  the  Catiline  of  Cicero  and  Sallust,  and  to 
ascribe  the  rest  to  intuition  is  in  no  wise  profit- 
able, since  to  modern  psychology  intuition  ap- 
pears to  be  as  mystical  a  conception  as  that  of 
"vital  force"  to  modern  physiology.  The  only 
historical  investigation  that  would  here  be  of 
profit  would  be  a  comparison  of  Ibsen's  work 
with  its  sources,  and  a  setting  forth  of  his  atti- 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  41 

tude  toward  them.  We  will  be  contented  with 
calling  attention  to  one  or  two  important  points 
only. 

Between  Sallust's  and  Cicero's  conception  of 
Catiline  there  is  no  difference  of  kind,  merely 
one  of  degree.  In  the  eyes  of  both  he  is  an 
almost  wholly  unprincipled  adventurer,  who  is 
only  concerned  with  the  gratification  of  his  pas- 
sions, and  who,  in  a  sort  of  desperate  madness, 
resorts  to  the  most  desperate  measures,  since  he 
cannot  attain  his  purpose  by  lawful  means. 

For  Ibsen  he  is,  on  the  contrary,  first  and 
foremost  an  indignant  idealist,  seeing  and  resent- 
ing the  utter  rottenness  of  his  time,  but  himself 
too  much  a  child  of  that  corrupt  age  to  play  the 
part  of  reformer  successfully.  He  is  a  Catiline 
who  thinks  and  speaks  like  a  sort  of  Cato.  Read 
only  his  characterization,  given  in  the  very  first 
scene,  of  the  condition  of  affairs  at  Rome :  — 

"  Here  reigns  injustice, 
And  tyranny  finds  elsewhere  no  such  sway. 
We  are  indeed  republican  in  name ; 
Yet  every  citizen  is  but  a  bondsman 
Plunged  into  debt,  dependent  as  a  serf 
Upon  the  favor  of  a  venal  senate. 
Vanished  for  aye  the  ancient  social  spirit, 
The  freedom  which  was  once  Rome's  proudest  boast. 
And  life  and  safety  are  a  grace  bestowed 
But  by  the  senate,  to  be  bought  with  gold. 
Here  justice  must  give  way  to  despotism, 
The  nobles  by  the  mighty  overshadowed." 


42  HENRIK  IBSKN. 

And  the  poet  undoubtedly  wishes  to  be  taken 
literally  and  directly  when,  immediately  afterward, 
he  allows  Catiline  to  characterize  himself  as  — 

"  A  man  whose  haart  is  stirred  in  freedom's  cause, 

The  foe  of  all  injustice  and  all  wrong, 
Friend  of  the  feeble,  crushed  by  unjust  laws, 
And  filled  with  courage  to  o'erthrow  the  strong." 

Or  when,  later,  he  represents  him  as  thus  out- 
lining his  plans:  — 

"The  civic  freedom  't  is  I  would  restore, 
The  public  spirit  that  in  times  gone  by 
Held  sway  in  Rome.     I  would  bring  back  to  earth 
That  golden  age  when  every  Roman  gladly 
Offered  his  life  upon  his  country's  altar. 
His  patrimony  for  the  people's  welfare." 

In  one  place  the  author  makes  him  even  refer 
to  Cato  by  name,  when  speaking  of  the  dreams 
that  he  has  cherished :  - 

"  Dreams  have  I  had  at  times,  and  mighty  visions 
Have  risen  to  my  view,  and  passed  before  me. 
I  dreamed  I  soared  with  wings  like  Icarus 
High  above  earth,  beneath  the  vault  of  heaven ; 
I  dreamed  my  hands  were  granted  of  the  gods 
Gigantic  strength  and  power  to  grasp  the  lightning. 
And  with  this  hand  I  seized  the  thunderbolt, 
To  hurl  it  on  the  city  far  beneath  me. 
And  then  the  lurid,  licking  flames  arose, 
And  Rome  was  laid  in  ashen  ruins  low. 
Then  called  I  with  a  loud  and  potent  voice 
On  Cato's  kin  to  rise  from  out  their  tombs, 
And  myriad  spirits  rose  at  my  command, 
Took,  life  again,  and  raised  Rome  from  the  dust" 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  43 

Ibsen's  own  revolutionary  enthusiasm  rings  in 
all  this  talk  about  civic  spirit,  and  in  these  pro- 
tests against  oppression  and  injustice.  General 
and  indefinite  as  they  are,  they  make  of  "  Cati- 
lina "  a  literary  landmark  in  the  revolutionary 
movement  of  the  forties.  The  February  Revo- 
lution had,  as  is  well  known,  a  social  character, 
and  had  herein  a  point  of  similarity  to  that  of 
Catiline.  He  might  indeed  have  been  made  the 
hero  of  the  work  of  some  revolutionary  poet  of 
his  own  age,  for  his  programme  was  to  a  certain 
extent  socialistic.  When  Cicero  relates  of  him 
that  he  denied  the  possibility  of  a  faithful  cham- 
pion of  the  poor  arising  save  from  the  ranks  of 
the  poor,1  he  records  a  trait  that  such  a  poet 
would  have  put  to  use.  Ibsen,  however,  lets  this 
pass  almost  unnoticed  ;  he  gives  a  free  transla- 
tion of  the  expression,  "  the  champion  of  the 
poor  "  ("  friend  of  the  feeble,  crushed  by  unjust 
laws"),  and  there  lets  the  matter  rest.  The  social 
aspect  of  the  revolutionary  movement  of  the  age 
had  not  yet  been  perceived  by  him,  and  so  the 
plans  of  his  Catiline  were  represented  as  essen- 
tially political  and  moral.  Ibsen  merely  gave 
form  to  his  youthful  and  indefinite  revolutionary 
sympathies,  and  altered  them  only  so  far  as  was 

1  "  Negavit  miserorum  fidelem  defensorem  inveniri  posse,  nisi 
eum  qui  ipse  miser  esset." 


44  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

demanded  by  historical  fact.  Rome,  in  Catiline's 
time,  was  a  republic  in  decay  ;  consequently  his 
purpose  must  be  to  restore  the  good  old  repub- 
lican Rome,  while  the  revolutionary  party  of  the 
forties  did  not  seek  to  re-establish  an  old  order 
of  things,  but  to  shape  a  new  one. 

Ibsen's  Catiline  is  then  but  the  historically  cos- 
tumed image  of  his  own  feelings  and  moods  at  that 
time,  and  the  author  puts  his  most  secret  thoughts 
and  dreams  into  the  mouth  of  his  hero.  In  the 
letter  already  quoted  from,  his  sister  tells  of  a  con- 
versation she  had  with  him  at  that  time,  upon  the 
occasion  of  one  of  his  visits  to  the  family.  They 
were  walking  out  to  the  Kapitels  Mountain,  a 
height  near  Skien,  bearing  the  ruins  of  an  old 
cloistered  church.  He  explained  to  her  that  he 
wished  to  attain  to  "  the  utmost  possible  clearness 
of  vision  and  fulness  of  power." 

"  And  when  you  shall  have  attained  to  it,  what 
then?  "  she  asked. 

"  Then  I  wish  to  die,"  he  answered. 

This  ideal,  enthusiastic,  and  impersonal  ambition 
of  his  youth  is  exactly  reproduced  in  the  following 
verses  of  "  Catilina." 

"  If  but  one  moment  I  might  shine  in  splendor, 
Blaze  like  a  falling  star  upon  the  night,  — 
If  I  might  but  achieve  one  noble  deed, 
And  link  the  name  of  Catiline  forever 
To  fame  and  to  undying  memory,  — 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  45 

Then  gladly  would  I,  in  the  hour  of  triumph 
All  things  forsake,  —  hie  to  an  unknown  shore  ; 
Then  gladly  plunge  the  dagger  in  my  heart, 

And  gladly  die,   -  for  then  I  should  have  lived." 

k 

But  however  closely  the  figure  of  Catiline,  with 
his  craving  for  the  ideal,  stands  related  to  his  poet, 
Ibsen  found  himself  compelled,  in  the  development 
of  the  piece,  to  set  himself  apart  from  his  subject, 
to  properly  motivate  the  tragic  outcome. 

Catiline  succumbs  without  having  realized  his 
splendid  dream,  and  this  is  brought  about  by  two 
causes. 

One  of  these  is  to  be  sought  in  the  pettiness  of 
his  following,  unable  to  comprehend  the  worth  of 
his  noble  and  lofty  aims,  and  willing  to  fight  only 
for  personal  ends.  It  is  a  recognition  of  this  that 
impels  Catiline  to  the  utterance  of  the  destructive 
or  nihilistic  fancies  which  are  thus  expressed :  — 

"  Well,  then,  if  ancient  Rome  may  not  be  raised 
Up  by  this  hand,  —  our  Rome  shall  pass  away  ! 
And  soon,  where  ranks  of  marble  columns  stand, 
Columns  of  smoke  shall  rise  'mid  crackling  flames; 
Temples  and  palaces  shall  lie  in  ruins, 
And  from  its  height  the  Capitol  be  hurled." 

But  he  finally  sees  that  he  cannot  attain  even  this 
negative  end  with  the  "  miscreant  and  cowardly 
horde,"  attached  to  him  only  through  necessity 
and  love  of  plunder.  Then,  and  for  the  first  time, 
his  watchword  becomes  revenge :  — 


46  HENR1K  IBSEN. 

"  Revenge  for  all  the  hopes  and  all  the  dreams, 
Crushed  for  me  by  a  hostile  destiny  ! 
Revenge  for  all  my  wrecked  and  wasted  life." 

So,  by  the  pettiness  of  circumstance,  he  is  driven 
step  by  step  from  his  ideal  plans  into  negation, 
disappointment,  and  thirst  for  revenge,  and  thereby 
is  his  downfall  justified. 

But  there  is,  as  has  been  said,  another  cause  to 
bring  about  this  end,  and  it  is  to  be  found  in 
Catiline's  personality.  For  Ibsen  has  not  made  an 
ideal  abstraction  of  his  hero ;  he  has  indeed  be- 
stowed upon  him  a  variety  of  personal  qualities 
which  raise  him  high  above  the  crowd ;  he  makes 
him  resolute,  courageous,  sympathetic,  and  truth- 
loving,  and  beyond  all  this,  he  has  given  him 
the  ideal  craving  to  rise  above  his  surroundings; 
but  he  has  endowed  him  besides  with  passions  of 
the  wildest  sort.  Ibsen  did  not  for  a  moment 
doubt  that  Sallust  and  Cicero  are  right  in  saying 
that  Catiline  had  led  a  lawless  existence,  and 
given  himself  over  to  the  wildest  of  excess.  So 
there  is  a  split  in  his  personality,  a  contradiction 
in  his  nature,  that  influences  the  shaping  of  his 
destiny. 

Finally,  then,  Catiline  appeared  to  Ibsen  a  man 
with  great  plans  and  a  strong  thirst  to  accomplish 
something  great  and  good,  but  unsupported  by  his 
environment,  and  without  the  purity  of  character 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  47 

and  the  energy  of  volition  that  are  needful  for  the 
accomplishment  of  a  lofty  purpose.  So  that  Ibsen 
has  good  cause  to  say,  in  the  preface  to  the  second 
edition :  "  Many  things  and  much  upon  which  my 
later  work  has  turned  —  the  contradiction  between 
endowment  and  desire,  between  capacity  and  will, 
at  once  the  entire  tragedy  and  comedy  of  man- 
kind and  of  the  individual  —  may  here  be  dimly 
discerned." 

In  the  piece  this  contradiction  appears  not  only 
in  Catiline's  character,  it  becomes  incarnate  in  two 
women,  Aurelia  and  Furia.  These  are  rather  two 
principles  than  two  characters,  disputing  for  the 
possession  of  the  hero  at  the  same  time  that  they 
are  struggling  within  him.  It  might  almost  be 
said  that  in  these  two  women  his  thoughts  and 
feelings  take  shape.  Aurelia,  his  wife,  is  depicted 
as  his  better  self;  she  has  the  power,  at  certain 
moments,  of  drawing  out  all  that  is  tender  and 
gentle  in  his  disposition.  The  vestal  Furia,  on  the 
other  hand,  has  an  equally  great,  but  very  different 
power  over  him ;  she  represents  his  wild  and  pas- 
sionate desires ;  she  inspires  him  to  both  deed  and 
misdeed.  She  is  at  once  an  amazon,  calling  him 
to  battle  for  great  ends,  and  a  goddess  of  ven- 
geance, driving  him  on  to  destruction.  Of  this 
she  is  fully  conscious,  for,  although  she  loves 
Catiline,  her  constant  thought  is  to  be  revenged 

4 


48  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

upon  him,  —  for  he  has  seduced  her  sister,  Silvia, 
and  thus  been  the  cause  of  her  death. 

But,  abstract  and  formal  as  is  the  conception  of 
these  two  figures,  there  may  be  traced  in  them  the 
germ  of  the  two  female  figures  who  long  ruled 
over  Ibsen's  fancy,  and  who  appear  again  and 
again  in  his  imaginative  work.  Aurelia  stands  for 
the  tender  affection  that  sacrifices  all  and  pardons 
all ;  she  is  the  first  sketch  of  a  whole  gallery  of 
Ibsen's  women ;  and,  like  all  first  sketches,  this 
one  is  rough  and  overdrawn;  her  self-abnegation, 
gentleness,  and  tenderness  know  no  bounds;  she 
is  in  this  respect  superhuman.  But  the  funda- 
mental traits  of  later  and  allied  creations  are  easily 
to  be  recognized  in  her. 

Furia  is  also  recognizable  as  the  prototype  of 
another  important,  if  less  numerous  group.  She 
is  a  wild  and  grandly  conceived  Valkyrie,  and  has, 
as  such,  the  fundamental  characteristics  of  Hjordis. 
When  she  thus  discourses  of  her  own  life, —  * 

"  How  empty  is  this  uneventful  life,  — 
Dim  as  the  flame  of  an  expiring  torch ! 
A  field  how  narrow  for  my  great  ambition, 
For  lofty  purpose,  and  for  wild  desire ! 
All  is  contracted  here  within  these  walls; 
Here  life  grows  set  and  hope  di'es  slowly  out ; 
Here  drowsily  the  day  sinks  to  its  end, 
And  never  thought  takes  shape  and  grows  to  deed,"  — 

we  get  a  distinct  glimpse  of  Hjordis  in  the  dis- 
tance. The  difference  is  only  this,  that  Furia  is 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  49 

confined  to  vestal  service  in  the  temple  of  the 
goddess,  and  Hjordis  is  tied  to  Gunnar's  farm  as 
his  wife.  When  Furia,  a  moment  afterward,  pro- 
poses to  Catiline  that  they  fly  together,  to  begin  a 
new  life,  rich  in  thought  and  deed,  in  some  far-off 
country,  we  involuntarily  call  to  mind  that  Hjordis 
makes  exactly  the  same  proposition  to  Sigurd. 
They  even  have  in  common  a  thirst  for  vengeance 
upon  the  man  whom  they  love,  although  the  cause 
is  different ;  and  both  end  by  stabbing  him,  to  find 
in  the  world  of  shades  that  union  that  was  denied 
them  in  life. 

When  "  Catilina "  was  written  Ibsen  had  read, 
as  far  as  he  can  remember,  no  other  dramatists 
but  Holberg  and  Oehlenschlaeger.  There  are 
things  in  "  Catilina  "  that  might  lead  one  to  think 
of  Shakspere's  Roman  tragedies ;  in  the  closing 
act,  especially,  one  is  tempted  to  recall  the  last 
act  of  "  Julius  Caesar;  "  but  at  that  time  Ibsen  knew 
Shakspere  only  by  name,  so  there  can  be  no  ques- 
tion of  influence  from  that  quarter.  He  was  ac- 
customed to  being,  to  a  great  extent,  his  own 
instructor  in  preparing  for  his  examination ;  he 
was  that  also  in  his  early  dramatic  efforts.  This 
makes  "  Catilina  "  all  the  more  remarkable,  dra- 
matically considered.  He  had  not  learned  much 
of  Oehlenschlaeger  as  yet;  he  had  got  from  him 
the  idea  of  the  blank  iambic  pentameter  verse, 


5O  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

and  in  his  moulding  of  that  verse  there  are  various 
things  that  point  to  Oehlenschlaiger's  influence. 
But  Ibsen's  restless  spirit  made  it  impossible  for 
him  to  adhere  to  any  system.  After  a  while  the 
pentameter  unrhymed  iambics  become  too  monot- 
onous for  him  ;  he  seeks  for  a  form  more  lyrical  in 
character,  and  finds  relief  in  long  series  of  rhymed 
iambics,  finding  a  haven  at  last  in  pompous  tro- 
chaic strophes,  turgidly  lyrical  in  their  movement 
The  same  characteristic  restlessness  appears  in 
the  scenic  arrangement  of  the  material.  The  three 
acts  take  us  to  no  less  than  nine  different  spots ; 
in  the  first  act  scenes  are  shifted  with  truly  Shaks- 
perean  frequency,  —  there  being  five  tableaux,  or 
nearly  as  many  as  there  are  scenes.  In  the  second 
act  things  are  better  managed,  and  there  are  but 
three  changes  of  scene,  while  the  entire  third  act 
passes  in  one  place.  The  composition  of  the  piece 
itself  evidently  contributed  to  the  author's  com- 
mand of  scenic  arrangement.  Still  more  charac- 
teristic is  the  dramatic  development.  There  is  no 
question  of  real  counter-play,  for  not  one  of 
Catiline's  opponents  appears  in  the  cast;  action 
is  reduced  to  a  minimum,  and  dramatic  situations 
are  almost  wanting.  Furia,  with  her  desire  for 
revenge,  only  serves  to  hasten  the  development; 
the  treason  of  Curtius  results  in  a  purely  external 
catastrophe;  and  the  duplicity  of  Lentulus  is  an 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  51 

episode  that  has  no  influence  upon  the  march  of 
events.  The  conflict  is  altogether  an  internal  one, 
and  the  development  occurs  only  in  Catiline's  soul, 
yet  it  is  not  wholly  without  dramatic  interest.  In 
the  energy  with  which  is  traced  the  psychological 
development,  from  Catiline's  self-accusation  in  the 
first  speeches,  through  his  disappointments  and 
perplexities,  until  the  madness  which  finally  clouds 
his  brain,  —  in  this  energy  a  reader  of  the  present 
day  may  discern,  in  spite  of  youthful  awkwardness 
and  youthful  defects,  the  stuff  of  which  the  future 
master  of  the  psychological  drama  was  to  be 
made. 

"  Catilina's  "  fate,  when  it  left  the  author's  hand, 
is  generally  known.  Its  formal  defects  being  very 
apparent,  it  found  favor  with  neither  theatre  nor 
publisher.  The  theatrical  management  politely  but 
firmly  rejected  it,  and  among  the  publishers  "  the 
one  making  the  most  favorable  offer  demanded 
such  and  such  a  sum  for  printing  the  piece  with- 
out any  promise  of  honorarium."  When  it  even- 
tually was  printed  in  Christiania,  at  the  expense 
of  an  enthusiastic  and  self-denying  friend,  its  fate 
was  not  much  more  cheerful.  It  excited  a  little 
attention  and  aroused  some  interest  in  student 
circles,  but  the  critics  found  it  immature,  and  the 
public  was  entirely  indifferent  to  it.  While  people 
poured  into  the  theatre  to  witness  such  a  trifle  as 


52  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

"  In  the  Mountain  Pasture,"  1  as  good  as  no  one 
cared  to  purchase  the  promising  maiden  effort  of 
an  author  destined  later  to  become  the  foremost 
dramatist  of  Norway,  and  one  of  the  most  striking 
figures  in  literature.  Although  one  of  the  local  au- 
thorities in  aesthetical  matters,  Prof.  M.  J.  Monrad, 
undertook  to  reply  to  the  critics,  and  expressed 
himself  in  praise  of  the  piece,  there  were  only 
about  thirty  copies  sold  altogether.  One  of  the 
few  people  who  found  a  use  for  the  book  was  a 
huckster  who  discovered  it  to  be  very  well  fitted  for 
use  as  wrapping-paper,  and  at  the  time  of  Ibsen's 
first  sojourn  in  Christiania  bought  from  him  and  his 
friend  a  large  number  of  copies,  one  evening  when 
their  stomachs  were  as  empty  as  their  purses. 

"  For  a  few  days  following  we  lacked  none  of 
the  necessaries  of  life,"  Ibsen  remarks  laconically. 

The  picture  which  "  Catilina  "  gives  us  of  Hen- 
rik  Ibsen  at  the  age  of  twenty  is  deeply  inter- 
esting, but,  as  I  have  already  suggested,  the 
nature  of  his  material  and  the  restrictions  of  the 
dramatic  form  compelled  him  to  set  Catiline  so  far 
apart  from  himself  that  but  a  few  points  of  re- 
semblance remain  between  the  author  and  his 
hero.  So  by  the  aid  of  "Catilina"  alone  it  is 
impossible  to  get  a  distinct  picture  of  the  young 
poet.  Other  materials  are  needed  ;  expressions  of 
1  "Til  Saeters,"  —  a  vaudeville  very  popular  at  that  time. 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  53 

a  more  personal  character  are  required,  —  in  other 
words,  letters  or  poems. 

It  follows  as  a  matter  of  course  that  Ibsen,  dur- 
ing his  stay  in  Grimstad,  wrote  other  poems  than 
the  political  appeal  referred  to  in  the  preface  to 
"  Catilina;"  but  of  these  early  lyric  efforts  almost 
nothing  got  into  print.  Two  poems  in  the  "  Chris- 
tiania  Post,"  one  of  them  being  a  copy  of  verses  in 
memory  of  Oehlenschlsger,  are  all  that  I  know  of, 
and  they  help  us  very  little.  Ibsen  himself  has 
not  preserved  a  single  line  of  manuscript  from  that 
period ;  when  he  mentions  his  political  poems  in 
the  preface  to  "  Catilina  "  he  does  it  from  memory, 
adding  a  cautious  "  as  far  as  I  can  recollect." 

Through  a  very  fortunate  combination  of  cir- 
cumstances I  discovered,  however,  that  his  youth- 
ful poems  were  not  lost.  Quite  a  number  of  such 
poems  are  still  in  existence,  and  they  serve  to  fill 
out  the  sketch  of  the  young  poet,  outlined  by 
"  Catilina,"  in  the  most  interesting  manner. 

The  collection  consists  of  twenty-six  poems 
neatly  written  in  a  small  bound  volume.  One  of 
them  dates  from  1847 —  that  is  from  Ibsen's  nine- 
teenth year,  —  three  from  1848,  thirteen  from  1849, 
and  the  remaining  nine  from  1850.  Nearly  all  of 
them  were  written  at  Grimstad,  only  two  or  three 
having  come  into  being  after  his  departure  from 
that  town. 


54  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

It  would  be  natural  to  expect  such  a  collection 
of  juvenile  poems  to  contain  many  suggestions 
derived  from  reading,  especially  as  we  know  from 
other  sources  that  their  poet  developed  into  full 
self-consciousness  at  a  much  later  date.  And  yet 
these  poems  are  far  less  literary  than  might  be 
thought.  In  form  they  are  marked  by  an  ease 
hardly  to  be  expected  of  the  author  of  "  Catilina," 
yet  not  very  characteristic.  But  in  matter  they  are 
all  the  more  so. 

At  that  time  Welhaven  set  the  tone  for  Norwe- 
gian lyrical  poetry.  His  "Later  Poems"  (1845) 
had  made  an  epoch  in  romantic  poetry  and  the 
poetry  of  nature.  They  were  "  spirit  ballads  "  of 
the  romantic  school,  with  its  predilections  for  the 
middle  ages;  and  with  them  the  nymph-lyric,  with 
its  symbolical  conception  of  nature,  had  come  to 
the  front. 

Only  once  do  we  notice  in  Ibsen's  work  any 
influence  from  this  quarter,  and  that  is  in  a  poem 
on  "  The  Miller  Boy,"  which  is  written  in  the  con- 
ventional manner  of  the  period,  and  provided  with 
singing  nymphs,  harp-playing  nixies,  and  other 
romantic  apparatus.  Aside  from  this,  Ibsen  re- 
mains uninfluenced  by  the  tendency  of  the  time,  — 
he  even  sets  himself  in  opposition  to  it,  fully  con- 
scious of  what  he  is  about.  In  a  poem  "  To  the 
Bards  of  Norway,"  dating  from  early  in  1850,  he 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  55 

asks  the  poets  why  they  so  worship  the  past 
ages,  "  old  days  enshrined  with  mouldering  mem- 
ories ;  "  has  not  the  gift  of  song  been  granted 
them  — 

"  To  serve  mankind, 

Who  would  within  the  poet's  inspired  song, 
Their  joys,  their  sorrows,  and  their  longings  find  ? " 

They  sang  often  enough  of  nature  in  Norway, 
but  how  came  they  to  forget  the  Norwegian  heart? 
There  lies  a  treasure  worthy  the  quest  of  Norwe- 
gian poetry,  whose  aim  should  be  to  portray  the 
life  of  the  people. 

In  this  first  poetic  programme- Ibsen's  own  fu- 
ture work  is  foreshadowed,  although  it  was  not 
destined  to  take  the  form  of  an  epic  presentation  of 
the  life  of  the  people. 

For  the  rest,  he  made  at  that  time  no  attempt  to 
write  poetry  in  harmony  -with  his  theories.  The 
poems  of  his  "  Catilina  "  period  are  all  purely  per- 
sonal ;  they  are  concerned  with  his  own  moods, 
thoughts,  and  impressions. 

Hardly  a  trace  of  the  future  satirist  is  to  be 
noticed ;  a  mild  attempt  at  satirical  description  of 
a  ball  is  the  only  instance  of  this  sort. 

The  fundamental  mood  of  these  poems  is  elegiac 
rather  than  satirical.  Many  of  them  have  a  cast  of 
gentle,  dreamy  melancholy.  The  repose  of  night, 
rather  than  the  turmoil  of  day,  appeals  to  their 
author,  and  he  is  one  of  those  for  whom  moon- 


56  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

beams  are  more  poetical  than  sunlight.  No  less 
than  six  of  the  poems  in  this  collection  are  the 
reflection  of  moonlight  moods.  "  Moonlight  on 
the  Sea,"  "  A  Moonlight  Musing,"  "  A  Moonlight 
Stroll  after  the  Ball,"  -  -  these  are  titles  that  need 
no  further  explanation.  The  last-named  of  these 
pieces  has  a  special  interest,  inasmuch  as  it  con- 
tains the  motive  of  one  of  the  most  remarkable  of 
Ibsen's  later  poems. 

"  Hush,  how  quiet !  from  the  ball-room  stream  those  joyous  tones 

no  more, 

And  the  sounds  that  pierced  the  silence  of  the  night  time,  now 
are  o'er. 

"  In  the  far-off  west  the  moonbeams  faint  and  ever  fainter  grow, 
While  the  earth  forgetful  sleeps  beneath  the  lilies  of  the  snow. 

"  But  although  the  ball  is  over,  yet  my  thoughts  still  linger  long 
On    the    memory    of    a    sylph-like    figure    flitting    midst    the 
throng. 

"  Soon  the  moon  shall  set,  and  I  with  sleep's  strong  arms  encom- 
passed be, 

And  my  soul,  with  memory's  treasure  laden,  glide  o'er  dream- 
land's sea." 

As  we  may  see,  the  motive  of  "  Away "  lies 
ready  to  hand  in  this  poem,  but  it  is  to  undergo 
a  characteristic  transformation  and  in  place  of 
the  moonlight  we  are  to  have  a  cheerless  night, 
dark  and  windy.  Dr.  Georg  Brandes  has  taken 
occasion  to  remark  concerning  "Away"  and  a 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  57 

few  others  among  Ibsen's  loveliest  poems,  that 
"  at  some  time  in  the  battle  of  life  a  lyrical  Pega- 
sus was  slain  under  him."  If  it  may  truthfully  be 
said  that  the  author  of  the  fourth  act  of  "  Brand  " 
and  of  the  scene  of  Aase's  death  in  "  Peer  Gynt " 
ever  had  his  "  lyrical  Pegasus "  slain,  these  ele- 
giac poems  of  his  youth,  in  spite  of  their  short- 
comings, will  at  least  bear  witness  that  it  once 
had  life.  They  are  the  work  of  a  writer  whose 
native  sensibilities  have  not  as  yet  been  tempered 
by  that  heat  of  which  Ibsen  was  to  sing  later,  in 
"  Memory's  Might." 

But  if  he  had  not  yet  become  hardened,  his 
natural  reserve  had  become  developed.  There  is 
in  these  poems  nothing  of  the  social  instinct  com- 
mon to  youth;  there  are  no  songs  in  which  the 
author  speaks  for  others;  he  always  says  "I," 
never  "  we ;  "  although  many  be  present  he  is 
everywhere  alone. 

And  he  is  everywhere  the  introspective  muser, 
with  whom  the  thought  has  a  greater  value  than 
the  reality  underlying  it.  He  has  intercourse  with 
actuality  only  that  his  intellectual  and  emotional 
life  may  be  fructified  thereby ;  as  soon  as  this  is 
accomplished,  actuality  no  longer  concerns  him. 
The  poet  whose  prophetic  fancy  saw  thrones  fall- 
ing at  the  assault  of  the  hosts  of  freedom  is  really 
occupied  much  more  with  the  past  than  with  the 


58  HEN R IK  IBSEN. 

future.     Not  hope,  but  memory,  is  the  theme  of 
his  youthful  song. 

At  times  he  dwells  upon  autumn,  and  voices  the 
poet's  old  complaint  that  the  splendor  of  summer 
should  have  been  so  brief,  and  that  the  flowers 
should  have  withered ;  but  then  he  finds  consola- 
tion in  the  thought  that  one  flower  remains  in  its 
fairest  bloom,  the  flower  of  memory,  which  bears 
the  promise  of  another  spring. 

Or  he  dwells  upon  the  memory  of  spring  itself; 
true,  it  is  short,  but  it  lives  in  the  recollection,  and 
thus  it  is  with  human  life.  The  joy  of  life  is  as  a 
brief  springtime,  but  the  heart-strings  long  vibrate 
plaintively  to  its  memory. 

"  The  tones  are  ours, 
And  linger  long; 
They  tell  of  flowers, 
And  springtide  song." 

The  political  poems  dwell  upon  the  importance 
of  memory  in  the  life  of  the  people ;  it  sustains  a 
nation  in  times  of  adversity.  It  is  an  unhappy 
people  that  cannot  look  to  a  noble  past  for  the 
"  consolations  of  memory." 

He  subdues  his  sorrow  at  a  friend's  departure 
by  evoking  memories  of  their  friendship  to  shed  a 
mild  radiance  upon  the  hour  of  leave-taking ;  and 
in  another  poem  he  suggests  memory  as  the  lover's 
refuge  in  the  absence  of  the  beloved  one. 


CHILDHOOD   AND    YOUTH.  59 

Like  Falk  in  "  Love's  Comedy,"  he  has  a  far 
stronger  belief  in  the  uplifting  influence  of  loss 
and  of  memory  than  in  that  of  happy  possession. 
Happiness  may  be  but  brief,  or  it  may  become 
hackneyed,  which  means  that  it  ceases  to  be  hap- 
piness. When  we  read  all  this  glorification  of 
memory,  we  involuntarily  recall  Brand's  words,  — 

"  What  we  win  is  ours  never, 
What  we  lose  we  gain  forever." 

We  see  how  far  back  in  Ibsen's  life  this  thought 
reaches,  and  we  understand  how  deep-seated  it 
must  have  been  in  a  nature  as  introspective  and 
inclined  to  the  ideal  as  his. 

But  the  collection  also  embraces  poems  which 
are  not  so  gentle  and  elegiac  in  their  character. 
There  are  poems  showing  that  Ibsen,  at  the  age 
of  twenty,  had  already  begun  to  exhibit  that  lean- 
ing towards  the  gloomy,  the  weighty,  and  the 
serious,  that  was  afterwards  to  count  for  so  much 
in  his  poetry. 

We  find  not  only  moonlight,  but  the  blackest 
of  night  as  well,  in  these  poems.  He  dwells,  for 
example,  upon  the  dismalness  of  a  thunder-storm, 
or  he  spends  a  dark  autumn  evening  gazing  into 
the  fire,  while  the  storm  is  raging  without,  and  the 
rain  beating  upon  the  pane.  He  takes  an  evening 
stroll  to  some  remote  and  gloomy  recess  of  the 
forest,  and  there,  when  the  storm  arises  and  min- 


60  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

gles  its  roar  with  the  hooting  of  the  owl,  he  feels 
himself  at  home,  and  feels  "  the  wild  terror  "  that 
seizes  upon  him  to  be  his  proper  element. 

"  Here  in  this  wild  and  stormy  place 

My  soul  at  last  finds  rest, 
And  here  to  me  seems  Nature's  face 
Reflected  from  my  breast." 

Finally  he  pictures  to  himself  the  midnight  hour 
in  the  churchyard,  and  with  this  thought  there 
becomes  mingled  the  old  belief  in  the  Dance  of 
Death.  The  clock  in  the  church  tower  strikes 
twelve,  and,  as  in  Goethe's  "  Der  Todtentanz  "  and 
Saint-Saens's  "  Danse  Macabre,"  the  dead  creep 
up  out  of  their  graves  and  perform  their  wild 
dance  in  the  churchyard.  Bones  beat  time,  and 
skulls  are  drummed  upon,  until  the  clock  strikes 
one  and  the  dead  scurry  back  under  their  stones. 
So  that  even  Ibsen's  well-known  "  affinity  for  the 
dismal"  is  thus  seen  to  date  back  to  his  early 
youth. 

It  is  no  less  interesting  to  notice  the  early  ripen- 
ing of  his  reflective  powers.  In  a  poem  entitled 
"  Doubt  and  Hope,"  written  in  his  twentieth  year, 
he  already  assumes  a  sceptical  attitude  towards  the 
dogmas  of  the  church.  This  may  not  be  a  very 
striking  phenomenon,  but  it  is  certainly  unusual  to 
find  a  youth  of  twenty  reflecting  upon  his  doubts, 
and  made  unhappy  by  them.  It  is  unusual  for  a 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  6l 

doubter  of  twenty  to  complain  that  he  is  no  longer 
a  child ;  that  he  no  longer  has  the  child-like  mind 
that  in  faith  sees  the  way  he  cannot  now  find. 

And  it  is  quite  as  unusual  to  find  a  poet  of 
twenty,  —  the  age  of  self-confidence  and  of  mag- 
nificent plans  for  the  future,  —  doubting  his  own 
powers,  and  giving  expression  to  this  doubt  in 
his  poetry.  In  the  oldest  poem  of  the  collection, 
"  Resignation,"  the  author  asks  himself  if  his  dream 
of  poetic  success  be  but  a  phantom,  and  seems  very 
much  inclined  to  answer  the  question  affirmatively. 
As  a  consequence,  he  sings  in  melancholy  stanzas 
of  the  foaming  wave,  that  swells  and  rolls  onward, 
but  breaks  at  last  against  the  cliff,  leaving  no  trace 
behind,  since  the  waves  that  follow  after  completely 
efface  it. 

Such  were  the  thoughts  and  fancies  with  which 
Henrik  Ibsen,  as  a  young  man,  occupied  his  hours 
of  solitude.  And  he  was  quite  as  different  from 
the  generality  of  young  people  when  in  the  com- 
pany of  others.  He  himself  tells  us  that  his  poli- 
tical enthusiasm  overflowed  at  times,  and  led  him 
to  express  himself  freely,  but  this  certainly  did  not 
happen  very  often.  As  a  rule  he  was  more  given 
to  the  formation  than  to  the  expression  of  his 
thoughts.  A  lady  who  at  that  time  lived  at  Grim- 
stad  relates  that  he  went  about  like  an  enigma, 
secured  with  seven  seals.  He  made  a  serious, 


62  HENKIK  IBSEN. 

gloomy,  almost  dismal  impression.  A  few  of  his 
female  friends  tried  to  make  out  what  in  the  world 
there  was  in  this  remarkable  man;  others  could 
not  help  being  afraid  of  him.  There  was  nothing 
strange  in  this,  for  it  would  be  difficult  to  imagine 
any  one  less  likely  to  play  the  cavalier  according 
to  the  standard  of  the  village  maiden. 

Imagine  him,  for  example,  taking  part  in  a  ball. 
While  the  other  young  men  give  themselves  up  to 
boisterous  mirth,  he  stands  apart  and  reflects  upon 
all  the  sorrow  concealed  beneath  this  smiling  ex- 
terior, and  upon  the  number  of  dancers  who  seek 
in  the  waltz  forgetfulness  of  their  sufferings.  He 
even  finds  a  certain  pleasure  in  dwelling  upon  these 
thoughts,  and  they  are  for  him  an  element  in  the 
poetry  of  the  ball  no  less  essential  than  the  dancing 
and  merriment.1  And  in  his  solitary  corner  he 
further  muses:  "  What  is  it  that  animates  all  these 
joyous  and  smiling  faces  ?  "  he  asks  himself.  "  They 
have  come  hither  expecting  contentment  and  pleas- 
ure ;  have  they  found  what  they  sought?  Does  not 
the  ball  rather  present  an  ideal  picture  of  the  great 
drama  of  human  life? 

"  And  what  is  this  ideal? 

"  Anticipation,  hope,  and  disappointment ! 

1  This  and  what  follows  is  taken  verbatim  from  a  section  of  the 
collection,  entitled  "Ball  Memories:  a  Fragment  from  Life  in 
Poetry  and  Prose." 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  63 

"  In  these  three  words  behold  the  whole  story 
of  human  life !  " 

He  to  whom,  at  so  early  an  age,  come  such 
thoughts  at  the  sight  of  human  enjoyment,  has 
already  taken  his  place  among  the  outsiders;  he 
is  not  made  for  the  fulness  of  life  and  its  pleas- 
ures; his  genius  and  his  experience  have  already 
stamped  him  as  the  solitary  muser. 

And  even  in  case  he  feels  inclined  to  mingle 
with  the  throng,  even  if  he  feel  himself  attracted 
to  some  individual,  he  will  hastily  draw  back  into 
himself,  like  the  mimosa,  closing  its  leaves  at  the 
least  touch. 

Erotic  moods  also  occur  in  his  "  Ball  Mem- 
ories," but  of  their  own  peculiar  sort.  He  has 
written  erotic  poems  before,  but  to  no  terrestrial 
woman,  —  rather  to  a  "  dream  vision,"  evoked  by 
an  unsatisfied  and  perhaps  insatiable  desire.  Not 
even  are  her  individual  features  those  of  any  hu- 
man form.  But  at  the  ball  he  meets  the  glance  of 
a  pair  of  pretty  eyes,  and  the  ideal  straightway 
becomes  real ;  just  thus  has  he  pictured  to  him- 
self the  woman  whom  he  might  love.  He  dances 
with  her,  is  intoxicated  by  her  bright  eyes,  and  is 
in  the  seventh  heaven  of  delight.  "  What  is  all 
the  strife  and  disappointment  of  a  man's  lifetime 
weighed  against  a  half-hour  like  this?"  But  this 
is  the  crown  of  the  whole  matter  for  him.  "  Fate  ! 

5 


64  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

take  from  me  this  excess  of  joy;  let  not  this  hour 
be  lengthened  and  made  desecrate.  I  have  found 
her;  what  would  I  more?"  And  fate  grants  his 
prayer ;  he  learns  that  she  is  betrothed,  and  thus 
has  she  fulfilled  her  mission  for  him;  she  has 
taught  him  anticipation,  hope,  and  disappoint- 
ment; further  developments  do  not  require  her 
presence,  for  they  take  place  within,  and  memory 
serves. 

In  this  psychological  process,  so  characteristic 
of  Ibsen's  nature,  idealistic  and  even  averse  to 
actuality,  do  we  not  recognize  Falk's  longing  for 
a  bride?  How  characteristically  and  genuinely 
Falk-like  is  the  cry,  "  Let  not  this  hour  be 
lengthened  and  made  desecrate ! "  This  is  a 
sort  of  affection  almost  wholly  unconcerned  with 
reality.  It  begins  as  an  ideal  dream,  touches 
upon  reality  in  a  ball-room  passion,  and  returns 
as  a  memory  to  the  region  of  the  ideal.  It  is 
like  one  of  those  comets  that,  after  wandering 
through  the  ether  for  ages,  touch  for  a  moment 
on  the  earth's  orbit,  and  then  resume  their  course 
through  empty  space. 

Such  is  the  picture  of  Henrik  Ibsen  that  is  given 
us  by  his  first  poems.  It  is  only  in  a  special  sense 
that  they  may  be  called  youthful  poems,  for  if 
they  reveal  to  us  anything  it  is  the  fact  that  their 
author  had  no  real  youth.  He  had  the  ideal 


CHILDHOOD  AND    YOUTH.  65 

longings  and  the  enthusiasm  of  youth,  but  he 
never  knew  that  careless  joy  which  is  its  most 
characteristic  mark ;  he  was  never  one  of  those 
for  whom,  to  use  his  own  phrase,  "  sport  is 
enough." 

But  youth  seldom  owns  such  a  wealth  of  possi- 
bilities as  were  his.  All  of  those  genial  gifts  which 
he  developed  as  a  poet,  exist  in  embryo  in  these 
youthful  verses. 

Many  years  and  much  strife  were  needed,  how- 
ever, to  bring  them  to  their  full  development. 


II. 


APPRENTICESHIP. 

TN  the  month  of  March,  1850,  Henrik  Ibsen 
*•  went  to  Christiania  to  finish  reading  for  his 
examination  and  to  "  go  up." 

Like  all  others  who  sought  a  short  cut  to  the 
university  in  those  days,  he  became  a  pupil  in 
Heltberg's  school,  a  "  student  factory,"  in  which 
raw  material  of  the  most  diverse  character  was, 
in  a  year  or  two,  fashioned  into  available  student- 
shape  by  that  original  and  genial  teacher. 

A  great  deal  has  been  written  about  Heltberg, 
his  school,  and  his  methods  of  instruction. 
Bjornson  has  celebrated  his  old  teacher  in  a 
charming  poem,  Arne  Garborg  has  given  an 
animated  description  of  the  school  and  its  teach- 
ers, and  no  one  who  has  written  Ibsen's  biography 
has  failed  to  mention  that  Aasmund  Olafsson 
Vinje  and  Bjornson  were  Ibsen's  schoolmates. 


APPRENTICESHIP.  6? 

All  the  contemporary  testimony  is  unanimous 
in  describing  Heltberg's  instruction  as  unusually 
interesting  and  stimulating.  Latin  and  logic 
meant  the  same  thing  for  him,  and  it  was  the 
laws  of  thought  that  he  sought  to  reveal  to  his 
pupils  as  they  worked  through  the  difficult  sen- 
tences and  the  refined  periods  of  the  Roman 
writers.  Thus  it  came  about  that  his  instruc- 
tion was  always  perspicuous  and  entertaining. 
He  always  had  a  striking  figure  at  hand  when 
some  grammatical  peculiarity  was  to  be  ex- 
plained, or  some  blunder  pointed  out,  and  he 
made  so  witty  a  use  of  it  that  the  whole  class 
shook  with  laughter. 

That  Ibsen  found  his  account,  both  as  man 
and  Latinist,  in  the  instruction  of  this  master, 
goes  without  saying;  but  the  influence  cannot 
have  been  very  great,  for  his  school-days  were 
brief.  He  was  older  than  the  average  of  artium 
candidates,  and  poorer  than  most  of  them ;  so  he 
was  compelled  to  prepare  for  examination  as  speed- 
ily as  possible.  After  the  lapse  of  a  few  months 
he  offered  himself  for  the  test.  Naturally,  under 
these  circumstances,  the  result  was  not  remark- 
ably brilliant. 

But  while  he  was  still  at  school,  he  appeared 
once  more  before  the  public.  He  took  occasion 
to  make  display  of  his  revolutionary  sympa- 


68  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

thies  again,  and  set  out  to  write  a  new  dramatic 
work. 

A  South  Jutlander  named  Harro  Harring  had 
come  to  Norway  in  1849.  His  previous  life  had 
been  adventurous,  and  he  had  taken  part  in  the 
Greek  struggle  for  freedom,  and  in  other  upris- 
ings. Early  in  1850  he  published  a  play,  "The 
Testament  of  America."  This  was  thought  by 
the  authorities  to  overstep  the  limits  of  freedom 
accorded  to  the  press,  and  he  was  banished  from 
the  country,  the  27th  of  May,  1850,  by  royal 
edict.  On  the  morning  of  the  29th,  the  police 
entered  his  dwelling,  seized  his  person,  and  put 
him  aboard  a  steamer,  where  he  was  held  under 
guard  until  its  departure. 

When  the  report  of  this  spread  about  town, 
a  meeting  was  called  for  5  P.  M.  to  protest  against 
the  action  taken.  A  written  protest  was  drawn 
up,  and  received  about  140  signatures  then  and 
there.  Henrik  Ibsen  was  one  of  those  present 
who  signed  it.  His  seventeen-year-old  school- 
mate, Bjornstjerne  Bjornson,  did  the  same. 

Those  assembled  at  the  meeting  then  proceeded 
in  a  body  to  the  residence  of  the  chief  minister, 
and  through  a  deputation  presented  the  address. 
Then  they  went  down  to  the  wharves ;  the  deputa- 
tion boarded  the  steamer,  and  addressed  a  few  words 
to  Harring.  When  he  showed  himself  on  deck, 


APPRENTICESHIP.  69 

three  times  three  cheers  were  given  him.  And 
cheers  were  also  given  for  fatherland  and  freedom. 
Ibsen  shared  heartily  from  beginning  to  end  in  this 
improvised  demonstration,  — the  only  political  dem- 
onstration, in  fact,  in  which  he  ever  took  part. 

It  was  at  about  this  time  that  he  wrote  his  second 
play.  He  spent  his  Whitsuntide  holidays  in  writ- 
ing out  a  little  single-act  drama,  "  The  Warrior's 
Tomb,"  which  was4  accepted  by  the  Christiania 
theatre,  and  performed  September  26th  of  that 
year. 

"  The  Warrior's  Tomb  "  is  far  from  being  as  in- 
teresting a  work  as  "  Catilina."  Both  in  form  and 
contents  it  is  an  impersonal  study  in  the  manner  of 
Oehlenschlaeger's  Northern  tragedies. 

A  Norse  viking,  Audun,  when  upon  a  piratical 
expedition  against  the  coast  of  Normandy,  is  sorely 
wounded,  and  deserted  by  his  followers.  A  little 
girl,  Blanka,  who  has  escaped  murder  at  the  hands 
of  the  wild  vikings,  finds  and  cares  for  him.  When 
his  wounds  are  healed,  he  builds  a  rude  hut,  and 
lives  there  as  a  hermit  with  his  foster-daughter, 
who  converts  him  to  Christianity.  The  new  faith 
gives  him  a  horror  of  the  viking  life,  and,  in  witness 
that  his  old  career  is  at  an  end,  he  buries  his  sword 
and  armor,  raising  a  mound  over  the  spot.  Many 
years  afterward,  his  son  Gandalf  comes  to  Nor- 
mandy to  avenge  his  father's  death.  He  is  about 


jo  HENRI K  IBSEN. 

to  slay  both  the  hermit  and  Blanka,  but  the  gentle 
and  forgiving  spirit  that  her  words  reveal  makes 
the  duty  of  vengeance  too  heavy  for  him ;  and,  that 
he  may  not  break  his  vow  either  to  be  avenged  or 
die,  he  is  about  to  consecrate  himself  to  death. 
Then  Audun  casts  off  his  hermit  garb,  and  explains 
the  real  state  of  affairs.  Gandalf  returns  to  Norway 
bearing  Blanka  as  his  bride,  but  Audun  remains 
behind,  choosing  to  pursue  his  hermit  existence  to 
the  end. 

All  three  of  these  figures  have  their  parallels  in 
Oehlenschlaeger's  tragedies.  The  old  viking,  who 
ends  his  years  as  a  hermit  in  the  South,  where  one 
day  his  countrymen  come  upon  him,  is  a  figure 
offered  us  by  Oehlenschlaeger  several  times.  In 
"  The  Warings  in  Micklegarth  "  he  occurs  as  the 
old  Syrian  hermit,  who  turns  out  to  be  Olaf  Tryg- 
vason,  and  in  the  second  act  of  "  Land  Found  and 
Vanished,"  the  same  figure  appears  as  the  hermit 
Quetzacoatl,  or  the  Icelander  Bjorn,  who  left  his 
home  when  his  beloved  became  another's  wife. 
The  contrast  between  Gandalf's  Northern  rough- 
ness and  Blanka's  Southern  gentleness  is  also  par- 
alleled in  the  "  Warings,"  by  the  contrast  between 
Harald  Haarderaade  and  Maria.  Blanka  is  the 
express  image  of  Maria.  Both  are  children  of  the 
South ;  both  admire  the  strength  of  the  North ; 
both  love  Northern  heroes  and  would  follow  them 


APPRENTICESHIP.  71 

to  Norway;  and  both  consider  it  their  task  to 
exert  a  softening  and  elevating  influence  upon  the 
people  among  whom  they  are  to  live.  Only  with 
Ibsen  the  situation  is  more  essentially  a  contrast 
between  Christianity  and  heathendom,  while  Oeh- 
lenschlseger  lays  the  stress  upon  the  contrast  be- 
tween Greek  civilization  and  the  rude  Norse 
strength. 

Yet  in  spite  of  this  influence,  there  is  in  Ibsen's 
conception  of  the  viking  period  something  that 
denotes  a  departure  from  Oehlenschlaeger,  and 
gives  promise  of  the  future  author  of  "  The  Chief- 
tains of  Helgeland."  These  vikings  are  more 
savage  and  fierce  than  their  obvious  prototypes ; 
they  are  more  barbarian,  less  civilized.  It  is  no- 
ticeable enough  that  contemporary  criticism,  com- 
mitted as  it  was  to  Oehlenschlaeger's  conception  of 
the  Norse  past,  found  them  too  rough  and  savage. 

But  the  critics  gave  an  encouraging  welcome  to 
the  little  work,  and  the  public  did  not  withhold  its 
sympathy.  It  had  three  performances,  which  was 
a  respectable  number  for  the  theatre  as  it  then 
existed. 

With  the  performance  of"  The  Warrior's  Tomb," 
at  the  Christiania  theatre,  Henrik  Ibsen  settled 
down  as  a  Christiania  man  of  letters.  All  thought 
of  taking  up  his  studies  at  the  university  was  aban- 
doned once  for  all. 


72  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

Together  with  his  friend,  Stud.  Jur.  Schulerud, 
"  Catilina's  "  publisher,  he  lived  in  a  modest  quar- 
ter of  the  capital.  The  honorarium  for  "  The  War- 
rior's Tomb  "  did  not  last  long,  and  Schulerud's 
monthly  allowance  was  anything  but  liberal.  Nev- 
ertheless this  devoted  comrade  shared  fairly  with 
his  friend.  "But  it  did  not  provide  for  dinner," 
relates  Botten-Hansen,  "  and  they  could  eat  no  such 
meal.  In  order  that  this  might  not  become  known, 
and  they  suffer  loss  of  credit  thereby  at  their 
lodgings,  they  used  to  go  out  at  dinner-time,  not 
returning  until  the  people  in  the  house  might  sup- 
pose that  they  had  eaten.  Then  they  drank  their 
Coffee,  and  ate  with  it  some  bread,  and  this  had  to 
pass  for  a  dinner.  At  that  time  I  met  Ibsen  and 
his  chum  almost  daily;  but  they  were  so  light- 
hearted  and  cheerful,  knowing  so  well  how  to  con- 
ceal their  singular  methods  of  economy,  that  I  had 
no  suspicion  of  it  until  long  afterwards." 

This  steadfast  and  devoted  friendship  has  pleas- 
antly bound  Schulerud's  name  with  that  of  Ibsen ; 
and  the  latter  displayed  his  gratitude  by  intro- 
ducing a  beautiful  memorial  of  his  friend  into 
the  preface  to  the  second  edition  of  "  Catilina." 
His  personality  does  not  seem  to  have  been 
striking,  and  he  does  not  seem  to  have  risen 
intellectually  above  the  common;  but  his  un- 
bounded devotion  to  his  friend,  and  his  unre- 


APPRENTICESHIP.  73 

served  belief  in  his  powers,  doubtless  had  a 
beneficial  effect  upon  Ibsen's  nature,  which  was 
sceptical  and  given  to  self-criticism. 

A  very  different  sort  of  influence  was  that  ex- 
erted by  another  dweller  under  the  same  roof,  — 
Student  Theodor  Fredrik  Abildgaard.  He  had 
given  himself  heart  and  soul  to  the  labor  move- 
ment which  had  been  started  by  Marcus  Thrane, 
as  a  consequence  of  the  ideas  awakened  by  the 
February  Revolution.  Abildgaard,  who  had  soon 
become  a  leader  in  the  movement,  initiated  both 
Ibsen  and  Schulerud  into  its  mysteries.  Ibsen 
did  not  occupy  any  well-defined  standpoint  with 
relation  to  the  socialistic  notions  at  the  bottom 
of  the  agitation,  nor  did  he  unreservedly  accept 
the  opinions  of  its  leaders.  Their  plans  were 
too  childish  and  fantastic.  The  whole  affair  was 
so  illogical,  so  immature,  and  so  stupidly  man- 
aged that  he  could  not  wholly  take  its  part. 
But  the  agitation  appealed  to  him,  because  it  had 
life  and  momentum.  He  went  to  the  meetings, 
which  were  held  in  Abildgaard's  rooms,  asso- 
ciated with  him  and  the  other  leaders,  and  wrote 
for  the  paper  which  they  published. 

After  a  while  Abildgaard  and  Thrane  were 
arrested  and  their  papers  seized.  Since  among 
them  were  manuscripts  of  Ibsen,  he  waited  for 
a  while  in  expectation  of  sharing  the  fate  of  his 


74  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

friends,  although  what  he  had  written  was  not 
of  a  very  incendiary  character,  and  he  could  not 
have  been  convicted  for  it.  Thanks,  however,  to 
the  presence  of  mind  of  one  of  the  initiated, 
Ibsen  escaped  any  inconvenience  in  the  matter. 
When  the  police  came,  the  superintendent  of 
the  newspaper  office  threw  all  the  compromising 
manuscripts  on  the  floor,  while  he  concealed, 
with  great  solicitude,  those  which  were  unimpor- 
tant. The  police  were  thus  led  by  the  nose,  and 
the  matter,  as  far  as  Ibsen  was  concerned,  ar- 
ranged. The  leaders  did  not  fare  so  well,  and 
were,  after  a  long  imprisonment,  sentenced  to 
hard  labor  for  their  socialistic  propaganda.1 

Two  other  men  must  be  named  with  whom 
Ibsen  came  into  contact  at  this  period  of  his 
life.  They  were  Paul  Botten-Hansen  and  Aas- 
mund  Olafsson  Vinje.  It  was  with  them  that  he 
commenced,  at  the  beginning  of  the  year  1851, 
the  publication  of  a  little  weekly  paper,  whose 
title-page  bore  the  resounding  name  of  "  The 
Man." 

Both  his  co-editors  were  older  than  Ibsen ; 
hrs  artiums  schoolmate  Vinje  was  thirty-three, 
and  Botten-Hansen  twenty-six.  Although  they 

1  Shortly  after  leaving  prison,  Thrane  came  to  America,  where 
he  lived  for  the  remainder  of  his  life.  He  died  at  Eau  Claire, 
Wisconsin,  April  30,  1890,  at  the  age  of  73.  —  TR. 


APPRENTICESHIP.  75 

could  not  boast,  like  Ibsen,  of  any  special  lit- 
erary gift,  they  were  certainly  both  superior  to 
him  at  this  time,  both  in  knowledge  and  general 
development. 

Botten-Hansen  had  already  laid  the  foundation 
of  his  comprehensive  acquaintance  with  foreign 
literature,  and  had  busied  himself  especially  with 
young  Germany,  whose  writers  he  made  the  sub- 
ject of  a  series  of  articles  published  in  the  paper. 
Vinje  was  not  so  well  read,  but  his  keen  and 
individual  intelligence  had  ripened,  and  he  had 
gained  a  fund  of  thought  and  experience  in  the 
hard  struggle  for  existence,  under  shifting  con- 
ditions, that  had  been  his  lot.  Intercourse  and 
work  with  these  two  men  doubtless  had  a  stimu- 
lating influence  upon  Ibsen's  spiritual  develop- 
ment. 

The  model  for  "  The  Man  "  was  found  in  Gold- 
schmidt's  "  The  Corsair,"  that  had  in  many  ways 
aroused  attention  in  Norway.  There  was  a  cer- 
tain resemblance  between  "  The  Corsair "  and 
"  The  Man,"  not  only  in  their  externals,  but  also 
in  their  political  attitude.  "  The  Man,"  like  "  The 
Corsair,"  was  of  the  opposition  without  support- 
ing the  opposition  as  it  then  existed,  and  when 
it  wrote  in  justification  of  the  charge  brought 
against  Goldschmidt,  that  he  had  not  enlisted  in 
the  service  of  any  principle,  it  wrote  at  the  same 


76  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

time  in  justification  of  its  own  course.  Vinje  was 
the  one  who,  on  behalf  of  the  editors,  broke  a 
lance  for  Goldschmidt  with  a  Norwegian  writer, 
who  had  taken  up  the  old  charge.  It  was 
a  mark  of  Goldschmidt's  greatness,  said  Vinje, 
that  he  belonged  to  neither  of  the  opposed  par- 
ties; for  connection  with  a  distinct  party  means 
loss  of  independence  and  spiritual  enslavement. 
Genius  is  solitary;  it  has  this  in  common  with 
irrationality,  —  that  it  does  not  appeal  to  the 
average  man,  but  after  a  while  it  comes  to  be 
understood.  This  article,  which  shows  us  Vinje 
as  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  Goldschmidt,  bears 
an  interesting  relation  to  those  views  of  the  rela- 
tion between  the  majority  and  the  individual 
which  afterward  found  expression  in  Ibsen's 
work. 

When  "  The  Man  "  joined  issue  both  with  the 
government  party  and  the  opposition,  it  was  by 
no  means  because  the  paper  occupied  a  middle 
standpoint  between  the  two  opposing  extremes. 
It  was,  on  the  contrary,  because  the  paper  was 
more  fully  in  opposition  than  the  opposition  it- 
self; because  it  considered  the  opposition  to  be 
lax  and  without  character.  In  the  twenty- three- 
year  old  editor  of  1851  there  are  already  sugges- 
tions of  the  author  of  "An  Enemy  of  Society;  " 
and  his  ideas  upon  the  political  situation  at  this 


APPRENTICESHIP.  77 

time  find  vent  in  a  satirical  production  that  takes 
a  noticeable  place  among  his  youthful  works. 

With  his  head  full  of  the  liberal  ideas  of  the 
period,  blazing  with  zeal  for  the  opposition,  and 
glowing  with  revolutionary  enthusiasm,  Ibsen  had 
come  to  the  capital.  In  this  centre  of  Norwegian 
intellectual  life  he  doubtless  expected  to  find  fully 
re-echoed  all  that  was  ringing  in  his  brain.  His 
first  act  was  to  take  part  in  a  demonstration,  his 
next  to  join  in  friendship  with  the  most  radical  of 
the  radicals.  That  this  acquaintance  was  unable  to 
offer  him  what  he  sought,  I  have  already  explained. 

But  in  the  national  assembly  the  restless  ferment 
of  the  time  must  surely  find  expression !  The 
opposition  in  the  Storthing l  must  be  a  worthy 
object  for  his  enthusiasm.  It  did  not  matter  much 
what  it  was  opposed  to;  the  main  thing  was  that 
its  opposition  should  be  strong  and  manful.  But 
in  this  respect  the  opposition  party  in  the  Storthing 
of  1851  was  anything  but  a  grateful  object  for  a 
young  poet's  enthusiasm. 

In  1848,  it  had  indeed,  for  a  moment,  looked  as 
if  the  political  commotion  of  the  period  was  not 
going  to  pass  over  without  having  some  effect 
upon  the  leaders  of  the  opposition  in  the  Storth- 
ing. But  in  the  interval  between  the  adjournment 

1  The  general  assembly  of  the  two  legislative  houses,  the 
Odelsthing  and  Lagthing. 


78  HENKIK  IBSEN. 

of  the  Storthing  in  1848  and  the  opening  of  the 
next  Storthing  in  1851  there  had  happened  many 
things  not  exactly  calculated  to  inspire  the  tame 
Norwegian  opposition  with  courage.  Tranquillity 
had  been  generally  restored  in  Europe,  and  the 
leaders  of  revolt  brought  to  punishment.  The 
Norwegian  opposition  in  the  Storthing  of  1851 
was,  in  consequence,  the  weakest  and  most  tract- 
able opposition  in  the  world. 

The  impression  that  all  this  made  upon  Ibsen 
was  one  of  disappointment.  For  the  first  time  in 
his  life  he  came  to  realize  that  the  ideal  was  very 
different  from  the  real,  in  great  matters  as  well  as 
in  small.  For  the  first  time  he  stood  face  to  face 
with  the  "  Spirit  of  Compromise."  This  weakened 
opposition  filled  him  with  scorn,  its  members 
seemed  to  him  narrow-minded  and  petty,  and  so 
he  wrote  "Norma;  or  a  Politician's  Love,"  a 
musical  tragedy  in  three  acts.  His  first  disap- 
pointment called  forth  his  first  satire. 

This  youthful  and  outspoken  piece  of  polemics 
i§  based  upon  Bellini's  "  Norma."  Political  nota- 
bilities take  the  place  of  the  characters  of  the 
opera,  and  the  most  powerful  blows  are  dealt  out. 
In  the  figure  of  Norma,  the  opposition  in  general 
is  derided  as  characterless,  while  at  the  same  time 
several  members  of  the  Storthing  are  singled  out 
by  name  and  branded  as  fortune-hunters. 


APPRENTICESHIP.  79 

His  other  poetic  contributions  to  the  paper  are 
of  no  great  interest.  Five  of  the  poems  which 
later  found  a  place  in  his  one  volume  of  collected 
verse  may  be  found  here  in  their  original  form, 
which  is  different  enough  from  the  final  one. 
Some  of  them,  as  "  The  Fiddler,"  "  Bird  and 
Bird-Catcher,"  and  "  The  Miner,"  show  that  his 
inclination  for  the  gloomy  and  uncanny  was 
growing. 

For  the  rest,  his  poems  in  "  The  Man  "  showed 
little  independence.  In  a  romantic  cycle,  "  Helge 
Hundingsbane,"  he  chose  for  a  model  Oehlen- 
schlaeger's  romantic  style,  as  it  appears  in  "  Helge  " 
and  "  The  Gods  of  the  North."  In  "  A  Saturday 
Evening  at  Hardanger,"  he  endeavored  to  depict  a 
scene  from  the  life  of  the  Norwegian  peasant,  in 
octaves  that  show  him  to  have  been  strongly  influ- 
enced by  Paludan-Miiller;  they  really  give  us  the 
latter's  "  Dancing-Girl "  in  Norwegian  costume. 
Another  poem,  "  The  Swan,"  betrays  both  in  form 
and  matter  the  influence  of  A  Munch's  "  Where 
I  Wander  about  in  the  South,  in  the  West."  The 
unconscious  originality  that  distinguished  Ibsen's 
first  effort,  has  almost  disappeared;  he  has  come 
under  the  influence  of  the  study  of  literature. 

After  a  lapse  of  two  quarters,  the  paper  took 
the  name  of  "  Andhrimner,"  after  the  cook  of 
Valhalla,  who  provided  the  Northern  gods  with 


8O  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

their  daily  food,  and  it  became  at  the  same  time 
a  general  review  of  literature  and  politics ;  but  in 
neither  form  did  it  gain  any  circulation  among  tbe 
public,  and  never  had  a  hundred  subscribers  at 
any  one  time.  At  the  close  of  the  third  quarter 
it  was  forced  to  suspend  publication. 

After  living  in  Christiania  for  a  year  and  a  half, 
and  after  having  successively  tried  his  hand  at 
dramatic  composition,  lyric  poetry,  political  satire, 
criticism,  and  editorial  work,  Ibsen's  position  was 
still  as  uncertain  as  ever. 

His  appearance  had,  however,  awakened  some 
attention,  and  won  for  him  a  certain  reputation; 
and  so,  when  the  newly  built  theatre  at  Bergen 
was  looking  about  for  a  stage-manager,  the  choice 
fell  upon  him.  The  6th  of  November,  1851,  he 
was  appointed  "  theatre  poet "  of  the  Bergen  stage, 
and  in  the  following  year,  the  theatre  granted  him 
a  travelling  stipend  of  200  specie  dalers,  and  three 
months'  leave  of  absence,  that  he  might  make 
himself  practically  acquainted  with  the  details 
of  stage-management  abroad.  This  stipend  was 
made  conditional  upon  his  assuming,  after  his 
return,  the  stage-managership  for  a  period  of  five 
years. 

The  compensation  was  very  small,  —  only  three 
hundred  specie  dalers  a  year;  but  it  assured 
him  a  modest  support,  and,  what  was  still  more 


APPRENTICESHIP.  8 1 

important,  the  new  position  gave  him  abundant 
opportunity  for  dramaturgical  studies. 

It  has  been  said  that  the  dramatic  poet  is  born, 
not  made.  "  One  may  through  study  become  a 
painter,  a  sculptor,  or  a  musician,  but  not  a 
dramatic  author,"  says  so  prominent  a  member  of 
the  profession  as  Alexandre  Dumas  fits,  in  the 
preface  to  "  Un  Pere  Prodigue."  "  One  must  be 
that  at  once  or  never,  just  as  one  is  dark  or  fair, 
whether  he  will  or  not." 

If  this  were  true,  the  dramatic  talent  would  offer 
a  singular  exception  to  the  laws  of  development 
to  which  all  living  things,  both  natural  and  spirit- 
ual, are  subordinated ;  but  these  laws  admit  of  no 
exceptions.  There  is  a  law  to  the  effect  that  a 
faculty  is  developed  by  exercise,  and  that  without 
exercise  it  remains  undeveloped  or  retrogrades. 
This  law  holds  good  for  the  dramatic  faculty  as 
for  any  other;  indeed,  if  we  come  right  to  the 
point,  it  holds  good  in  the  dramatic  more  truly 
than  in  the  other  literary  fields,  because  skill  and 
technique  are  of  greater  importance  in  the  drama 
than  in  other  forms  of  the  poetic  art. 

And  this  technique  is  not  to  be  acquired  by 
means  of  theoretical  investigations ;  it  must  be 
studied  practically.  A  piece  must  be  studied  from 
the  first  rehearsal  to  its  presentation  before  the 
public ;  its  development  upon  the  stage  must  be 


82  HENRIfC  IBSEN. 

watched  ;  and  the  manager  must  realize  it  for  him- 
self until  he  feels  himself  identified  with  the  author; 
he  must  form  a  conception  of  its  effect,  and  of  how 
that  effect  is  to  be  produced,  —  and  all  this  before 
that  final  test  of  the  work  which  the  first  perform- 
ance gives.  This  performance  will,  as  a  rule, 
bring  many  interesting  surprises ;  things  which 
were  expected  to  "  do  themselves,"  fall  flat,  and 
things  to  which  little  attention  has  been  paid,  score 
a  success.  Where  only  a  smile  was  expected,  loud 
laughter  is  heard,  and  the  reverse.  One  tries  to 
account  for  all  this ;  in  other  words,  one  begins  to 
understand  and  learn.  The  next  time  one  is 
wiser,  but  there  still  remains  much  that  is  surpris- 
ing, much  to  learn ;  and  should  one  even  devote 
his  whole  life  to  the  task  he  will  never  become  so 
certain  as  to  be  able  to  positively  foretell  how 
each  detail  of  a  dramatic  work  will  look  upon 
the  stage.  But  gradually  this  result  is  reached, 
that  one  learns  to  see  his  own  or  another's 
plays  as  they  will  appear,  while  writing  or  reading 
them. 

The  importance  of  the  fact  that  Henrik  Ibsen 
came  into  close  relations  with  the  stage  at  an  early 
period  of  his  life  cannot  be  strongly  enough  em- 
phasized. If  it  had  not  been  for  this  relation,  he 
would  never  have  attained  to  that  technical  mas- 
tery of  dramatic  composition  which  is  now  justly 


APPRENTICESHIP.  83 

admired  in  his  works.  For  about  ten  years  he  was 
bound  to  the  Norwegian  theatre  in  the  capacity 
of  stage-manager,  and  during  this  time  produced 
at  least  a  hundred  pieces.  It  was  a  good  school 
to  graduate  from.  It  was  naturally  a  very  motley 
collection  of  works  that  he  thus  practically  stud- 
ied; it  included  Shakspere  and  Holberg,  Oeh- 
lenschlaeger  and  Heiberg,  his  own  and  Bjornson's 
youthful  works,  and,  more  important  still,  the 
works  of  contemporary  French  dramatic  litera- 
ture, —  Scribe  especially,  whose  technique  was 
not  without  its  influence,  although,  in  literary  re- 
spects, he  could  not  be  very  partial  to  the  Scribe 
repertoire. 

He  did  not  concern  himself  greatly  with  drama- 
turgical studies  of  a  theoretical  description.  He 
read  Heiberg's  prose  writings,  especially  the  noted 
essay  on  the  vaudeville,  and  he  got  hold,  while  on 
his  travels,  of  Hermann  Hettner's  "  The  Modern 
Drama,"  which  had  just  appeared,  and  which  he 
found  to  be  a  very  interesting  and  stimulating 
book.  This  was  about  the  whole  of  his  theoretical 
reading. 

In  Christiania  he  had  been  able  to  see  con- 
scientious, if  not  genial  acting.  The  Danish 
theatre  of  the  Norwegian  capital  was  not  without 
a  number  of  talented  actors  ;  and  they,  with  the 
less  gifted  artists  of  the  theatre,  were  bound  to- 


84  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

gether  by  a  definite  artistic  tradition.  They  were 
all  more  or  less  intimately  related  with  the  great 
age  of  Danish  acting,  which  dated  from  as  early  as, 
if  not  earlier  than,  the  beginning  of  the  century; 
and  even  if  this  acting  had  a  somewhat  ideal  char- 
acter, it  possessed  many  substantial  virtues,  and  its 
study  must  have  been  instructive  for  a  young 
dramatist. 

Then  there  were  the  impressions  gained  during 
Ibsen's  stay  in  Copenhagen  and  Dresden  during 
the  summer  of  1852.  These  were  impressions  of 
a  wholly  different  sort.  It  so  happened  that  this 
period  was  a  stirring  one  both  for  the  Royal 
Theatre  of  Copenhagen  and  for  the  Dresden 
theatre.  In  both  Copenhagen  and  Dresden  the 
academical  and  idealist  tendency  still  ruled.  In 
the  former  city  it  was  represented  by  a  director 
like  Johan  Ludvig  Heiberg;  in  the  latter  by  a 
leader  like  the  elegant  and  tasteful  artist  Emil 
Devrient.  But  in  both  places  a  younger  artistic 
talent  had  made  its  way  to  the  stage,  and  intro- 
duced a  new  principle,  that  of  realism.  In  Dres- 
den this  principle  was  represented  by  the  restless 
and  energetic  Pole,  Dawison,  and  in  Copenhagen 
by  the  intelligent  and  finely  gifted  Hoedt.  Hoedt's 
artistic  watchword  was  nature,  and  Dawison's, 
passion ;  but,  unlike  as  they  were  in  temperament 
and  artistic  attitude,  they  waged  in  common  the 


APPRENTICESHIP.  85 

battle  against  idealist  declamation  and  academical 
decorum.  Ibsen,  who  was  enabled  to  see  them 
both,  thus  for  the  first  time  became  acquainted 
with  a  new  artistic  impulse,  which  corresponded 
with  the  new  tendency  in  the  dramatic  literature 
of  the  period.  He  saw  both  Hoedt  and  Dawison 
play  "  Hamlet,"  and  was  especially  captivated  by 
the  latter's  performance ;  while  on  the  other  hand, 
Hoedt's  acting  afforded  him  more  satisfaction  in 
the  comic  part  of  the  lover  Grignon,  in  Scribe's 
"  Bataille  de  Dames." 

At  home  in  Bergen  the  stage  had  no  such  fruit- 
ful impressions  to  give  him ;  things  were  only  in 
their  beginnings,  but  it  must  nevertheless  have 
been  both  pleasing  and  instructive  to  observe 
young  talents  like  those  of  Johannes  Brun,  Louise 
Brun,  and  Lucie  Johannesen  in  their  early  de- 
velopment. 

The  theatre  at  Bergen  was  one  of  the  fruits  of 
the  national  enthusiasm  that  reigned  during  the 
forties  and  fifties.  The  treasures  of  popular  poetry 
that  Asbjornsen  and  Moe  had  brought  to  light  had 
put  the  public  into  a  condition  of  national  ecstasy, 
and  the  watchword  was,  a  Norwegian  art  and  a 
Norwegian  poetry.  The  painters  should  choose 
Norwegian  subjects,  the  musicians  should  play  or 
improvise  upon  Norwegian  airs,  and  the  poets 
should  depict  the  Norwegian  people,  past  and 


86  HENKIK  IBSEN. 

present.  The  style  of  the  folk-song  became  the 
literary  model,  and  the  Norwegian  peasant  the 
literary  ideal. 

The  spirited  Bergeners  were  in  no  wise  left  be- 
hind by  the  dwellers  at  the  capital ;  they  were,  on 
the  contrary,  the  more  zealous,  when  it  came  to 
a  display  of  national  sympathies.  In  the  town's 
places  of  public  recreation,  the  ladies  appeared 
wearing  the  national  colors,  and  enthusiastically 
listened  to  the  melodies  of  "  The  Pasture  Maiden's 
Sunday,"  while  all  the  people  gathered  in  the 
theatre  to  admire  fiddle-playing  and  Hailing  *- 
dancing  by  genuine  Norwegian  peasants,  and  the 
singing  and  declamation  of  imitation  peasants  in  a 
light  vaudeville  like  "  In  the  Mountain  Pasture." 

This  national  sentiment  was  felt  even  by  the 
author  of  "  Catilina,"  cosmopolitan  as  were  his 
inclinations;  and  he  turned  from  those  crises  in 
the  world's  history  that  had  interested  him  as 
apprentice  and  student,  to  devote  himself  wholly 
to  national  themes.  He  had,  however,  a  keen 
insight  into  the  onesidedness  and,  superficiality 
of  the  national  movement,  and,  although  joining 
with  it,  he  could  not  refrain  from  an  ironical 
treatment  of  certain  of  its  aspects.  When  in 
Christiania  he  had  already,  in  a  dramatic  criticism, 
expressed  his  opinion  as  to  what  should  be  the 
1  From  Hallingdal,  a  country  district  of  Norway.  — TR 


APPRENTICESHIP.  8/ 

aims  of  a  national  literature.  "  The  national 
writer,"  he  had  said,  "  is  the  one  who  under- 
stands how  to  impart  to  his  work  the  funda- 
mental tone  that  greets  us  from  mountain  and 
valley,  from  hillside  and  shore,  and  that,  most 
important  of  all,  is  heard  within  the  depths  of 
our  own  being."  All  those  external  attributes  of 
nationalism,  by  which  the  period  set  such  store, 
were  in  his  eyes  like  so  much  tinsel  stuck  upon 
the  outside.  But  as  a  poet  he  was  not  yet  pre- 
pared to  take  this  standpoint,  and  the  first  dra- 
matic fruit  of  the  influence  exerted  upon  him  by 
the  national  movement  turned  out  to  be  a  singular 
union  of  realism  with  national  romanticism,  hav- 
ing a  firm  foothold  neither  in  the  romantic  nor 
the  real. 

"  St.  John's  Night,"  produced  at  the  Bergen 
theatre  the  2d  of  January,  1853,  has  never  been 
printed,  and  exists  only  in  one  or  two  inacces- 
sible manuscript  copies.  I  know  the  piece  only 
through  a  synopsis  of  the  action  given  in  Blanc's 
history  of  the  Bergen  theatre,  and,  as  far  as  it  is 
possible  to  judge  of  the  piece  from  this  synopsis, 
it  is  not  without  a  few  points  of  resemblance  to 
"  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream."  In  it  the  nixies 
play  the  part  of  prologue  and  fly-wheel  of  the 
action,  about  as  Puck  does  in  Shakspere,  and 
the  elves  and  hill-folk  appear  in  the  more  lyrical 


88  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

portions.  But  in  spite  of  this  romantic  machinery, 
the  real  characters  in  the  piece  are  every-day  peo- 
ple of  the  period,  just  as  they  are  in  "  Master  and 
Pupil,"  and  several  of  Hostrup's  other  works  of 
that  time. 

The  scene  is  laid  upon  a  farm  in  Thelemarken, 
where  ladies  and  students  have  assembled  on  St. 
John's  eve.  A  betrothal  is  about  to  be  an- 
nounced, and  in  celebration  of  the  occasion 
punch  is  brought  into  the  garden.  Here  the 
nixies  come  in  and  express  the  juice  of  a  mys- 
terious plant  into  the  punch-bowl.  Whoever 
drinks  of  this  juice  is  no  longer  dazzled  by  out- 
ward appearances ;  the  scales  drop  from  his  eyes, 
and  he  beholds  "  the  inner  life,  that  sits  in  the 
secret  recesses  of  the  soul;  " 

"  But  those  whose  minds  have  nought  to  ponder, 
Blind  or  asleep  as  before,  still  wander." 

After  the  two  couples  in  the  piece  have  par- 
taken of  the  punch,  they  stroll  out  to  the  St 
John's  hill,  where  the  mountain  opens  for  those 
whose  sight  has  been  made  clear,  so  that  they  see 
the  mountain  king  surrounded  by  dancing  elves 
and  hill-folk.  The  prosaic  natures,  on  the  other 
hand,  see  only  girls  and  boys  dancing  about  a 
St.  John's  fire,  and  take  the  mountain  king  for  a 
member  of  the  festival  committee.  A  romantic 


APPRENTICESHIP.  89 

poet  is  one  of  these  common-place  people.  A 
play  of  elective  affinities  now  takes  place,  under 
the  influence  of  the  magic  draught  of  the  nixies ; 
the  poetically  inclined  natures  now  understand 
each  other,  and  are  brought  together  in  spite  of 
the  betrothal  that  had  separated  them  before,  while 
those  of  prosaic  disposition  also  join  forces.  At 
the  same  time  an  ancient  wrong  that  had  been 
done  the  romantic  lover  is  discovered  and  righted, 
and  all  is  brought  to  a  satisfactory  ending. 

The  performance  of  this  piece  was  not  a  success, 
and  its  importance  in  the  development  of  the 
author  can  hardly  be  considered  greater  than  that 
of  a  study. 

A  noticeable  proof  of  the  influence  upon  Ibsen 
of  his  practical  activity  in  stage  matters  was  fur- 
nished two  years  later,  when  his  next  dramatic 
work  came  before  the  public.  The  work  shows 
that  his  theatrical  occupations  had  enabled  him  to 
profit  by  some  of  the  principles  developed  by 
Hermann  Hettner  in  his  little  book.  Hettner  had 
condemned  with  great  force  the  loose  sort  of 
chronicle  play  that  had  been  called  forth  by  ad- 
miration of  Shakspere's  "  histories,"  and  had 
emphasized  the  necessity  for  employing  strict 
rules  of  composition,  and  for  making  of  the  histor- 
ical drama  a  "  psychological  tragedy  of  character," 
if  it  were  to  pass  for  a  work  of  genuine  art. 


90  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

"  Fru  Inger  of  Oestraat "  is  just  such  a  psycho- 
logical tragedy  of  character,  and  the  composition 
is  worked  out  so  energetically  that  the  unities  both 
of  time  and  place  are  preserved,  the  entire  action 
taking  place  in  a  single  night  upon  Fru  Inger's 
estate.  In  spite  of  a  few  long  scenes  there  is  in 
the  development  of  the  action  a  dramatic  power 
that  holds  the  attention  from  first  to  last  in  an  iron 
grasp,  while  the  gloom,  which  is  the  fundamental 
mood  of  the  piece,  deepens  from  act  to  act,  from 
the  ghostly  setting  of  the  first  act,  through  the 
sepulchral  air  of  the  scene  which  witnesses  the 
separation  of  Eline  and  Nils  Lykke,  to  Fru  In- 
ger's hallucinations  and  murder  of  her  own  son. 

The  period  of  Norwegian  history  treated  by 
Ibsen  in  this  play  produces  just  such  a  gloomy 
impression  upon  us.  It  was  the  age  of  Norway's 
deepest  abasement. 

After  Sverre's  democratic  rule  had,  in  the  thir- 
teenth century,  taken  away  the  political  influence 
of  the  Norwegian  aristocracy,  the  noble  families  of 
the  country  continued  to  go  down  hill  during  the 
fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centuries.  The  families 
of  the  old  chieftains  became  extinct  one  by  one, 
and  their  possessions  became  gathered  into  fewer 
and  fewer  hands ;  but  these  great  fortunes  did  not 
avail  to  stay  the  ruin  that  the  process  of  social 
decay  was  steadily  bringing  on.  Says  Ernest  Sars : 


IBSEN'S  BIRTHPLACE. 


APPRENTICESHIP.  91 

"  This  process  may  be  said  to  have  reached  com- 
pletion at  the  time  when  the  movement  of  the 
Reformation  reached  the  Scandinavian  countries, 
since  Norway  was  then  completely  bereft  of  a 
ruling  class,  having  left  only  families  of  the 
lower  nobility,  which  were  raised  above  good 
peasant  stock  neither  by  wealth  nor  political  tradi- 
tions, and  which  could  not  command  consideration 
beyond  the  limits  of  their  own  native  districts." 
But  at  that  time  the  nobility  was  the  only  class 
able  effectively  to  represent  the  people  in  political 
matters  and  others  concerning  their  higher  inter- 
ests, so  that  the  decline  of  the  nobility  meant  the 
impotence  of  the  nation.  In  consequence  of  this, 
Norway  was  at  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth 
century  "  more  than  ever  like  a  bare  trunk  or  a 
helpless  wreck."  Such  figures,  suggestive  of  weak- 
ness and  barrenness,  are  constantly  falling  from 
the  lips  of  our  historians,  when  they  speak  of  the 
period  in  question. 

In  consequence  of  this  dying  at  the  top,  there 
was  no  concern  for  the  nation's  welfare,  no  love  of 
country  among  the  Norwegians  of  that  age.  The 
last  of  the  Norwegian  nobles  were  Swedish-minded 
or  Danish-minded,  according  to  their  personal 
relations  and  connections  of  kindred ;  none  of 
them  were  Norwegian-minded.  Even  Knut  Alfs- 
son,  so  highly  esteemed  as  a  national  martyr,  was 


92  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

merely  a  tool,  whose  connections  by  birth  and 
marriage  made  him  useful  to  the  Swedes.  The 
one  man  who  speaks  a  patriotic  language,  and 
who  seems  really  to  feel  for  the  abasement  of  his 
country,  is  Vincent  Lunge.  In  his  letters  he 
speaks  boldly,  and  more  than  once,  of  the  wretched- 
ness of  the  land  and  of  the  Norseman's  sluggish- 
ness. But,  characteristically  enough,  this  one 
patriot  was  not  a  Norseman,  but  a  Danish  noble- 
man married  into  a  Norwegian  family;  and  his 
patriotism  was,  besides,  little  more  than  a  cloak 
for  his  ambition,  his  covetousness,  and  his  love  of 
command.  The  charter  which  he  and  the  other 
Norwegian  state  councillors  obtained  from  Fred- 
erik  the  First  in  1523  was  undoubtedly  more 
favorable  to  the  country  than  that  granted  by 
Kristjern  the  Second  ten  years  previously;  but  it 
really  amounted  to  little  more  than  a  meaningless 
scrap  of  parchment,  soon  disregarded  by  the  king. 
The  state  council  still  existed,  but  it  was  "  an  in- 
stitution almost  without  root,  and  without  the  force 
of  will  needed  to  enable  it  to  play  an  independent 
part."  Danish  nobles  established  themselves  in 
the  country,  got  hold  of  the  best  places,  possessed 
themselves,  by  marriage  or  other  and  less  honor- 
able means,  of  the  richest  estates,  and  dealt  and 
ruled  about  as  they  pleased.  The  state  of  affairs 
was  not  far  from  being  utterly  lawless;  violent 


APPRENTICESHIP.  93 

feuds,  depredations,  unpunished  seizure  of  the 
property  of  others,  plundering  expeditions,  and 
even  regular  petty  warfare  among  the  men  in 
power,  were  the  order  of  the  day.  Norway  has 
never  known  another  period  as  gloomy  as  this, 
and,  if  the  old  figure  of  a  night  four  centuries  long 
is  to  serve  as  a  description  of  Norway's  dependent 
age,  then  the  beginning  of  the  sixteenth  century 
must  stand  for  midnight. 

In  the  gloomy  drama  that  Ibsen  unfolds  for  us, 
there  appears,  then,  the  spirit  of  this  age,  with  its 
paralyzed  forces  and  its  dark  intrigues,  with  its 
crushed  hopes  and  its  unrestrained  passions,  with 
its  ghostly  mood  and  its  sepulchral  horror. 

No  wonder  that  material  like  this  should  appeal 
to  Ibsen,  with  his  natural  inclination  for  the  dark 
and  dismal !  No  wonder  that  in  successfully  pre- 
senting a  living  picture  of  that  age,  he  was  also 
successful,  for  the  first  time,  in  displaying  his  own 
personality ! 

But  still  another  sentiment,  the  patriotic,  attracted 
Ibsen  to  his  material.  The  period  of  national 
awakening  that  came  with  the  first  half  of  the 
present  century  was  a  period  that  less  than  any 
other  could  contemplate  unstirred  the  age  of  the 
Reformation.  The  sensitive  new-born  national 
feeling  could  not  fail  to  be  excited  to  grief  and 
indignation  by  the  thought  of  the  nation's  deep 


94  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

degradation.  That  Ibsen  was  stirred  by  these 
feelings  is  seen  by  his  having  made  them  incar- 
nate in  Eline,  the  fairest  creation  of  the  play.  The 
real  Eline  did  not  feel  thus,  —  a  Norwegian  woman 
of  that  age  hardly  could  have  felt  thus,  —  but  with 
Ibsen  she  is  the  muse  of  the  drama,  and  he  repre- 
sents in  her  the  feeling  of  grief  at  the  fate  of  the 
fatherland.  It  was  difficult,  in  the  first  half  of  this 
century,  to  understand  these  Norsemen  of  the 
Reformation  period ;  their  dulness  appeared  in- 
conceivable, and  every  trace  of  high-mindedness 
and  patriotic  feeling  that  was  discerned,  or  thought 
to  be  discerned  in  them,  was  hailed  with  ent^u- 
siasm.  Thus  it  was  that  Knut  Alfsson  was  made 
into  a  national  hero,  and  martyr  for  the  love  of  his 
country.  A.  Munch  glorifies  him  in  "  Pictures 
from  North  and  South ; "  other  authors  admire 
him,  and  Ibsen's  piece  begins  with  his  name:  — 

"  Who  was  Knut  Alfsson  ?  " 

"  The  last  champion  of  Norway." 

These  are  the  opening  lines  of  the  play. 

All  things  considered,  there  was  felt  a  need  to 
find  some  object  for  enthusiasm,  something  noble 
and  high-minded,  in  that  age  so  poor  in  enthu- 
siasm, nobility,  and  high-mindedness.  It  was  this 
need  that  impelled  Ibsen  to  his  conception  of  the 
principal  character  in  the  piece.  About  her  he 
has  clustered  all  the  dreams  of  Norway's  resurrec- 


A  PPRENTICESHIP.  9  5 

tion.  He  makes  her  stand  forth  by  Knut  Alfsson's 
bier,  and  swear  that  her  life  shall  be  consecrated 
to  avenge  the  slain  and  give  freedom  to  the  land. 
From  that  moment  all  believe,  herself  included, 
that  she  is  chosen  to  take  up  the  work  that  fell 
from  Knut  Alfsson's  hands  on  board  Henrik 
Krummedike's  ship.  All  look  to  her  for  the 
word,  but  she  never  utters  it,  for  she  becomes  so 
bound  that  she  dare  not  stir.  Her  love  for  Sten 
Sture  brings  her  a  son,  who  is  sent  to  Sweden,  and 
this  son  is  her  fate.  Whenever  she  would  step 
forth,  fear  for  her  son  restrains  her.  This  fear 
impels  her  to  marry  the  decrepit  Nils  Gyldenlove, 
and  to  bestow  her  daughters  upon  Danish  knights; 
it  is  affection  for  this  child  that  makes  her  lose  the 
confidence  of  her  fellow-countrymen,  that  draws 
her  into  perplexing  and  ambiguous  situations,  and 
that  finally  impels  her  to  his  murder,  in  the  belief 
that  she  is  striking  at  another  who  stands  in  his 
path.  It  is  a  greatly  planned  and  boldly  executed 
tragic  creation. 

But  in  fact,  Fru  Inger  Ottesdatter  was  not  a 
being  of  such  heroic  mould.  She  was  the  last 
descendant  of  the  old  chieftain  stock  to  preserve 
her  position,  and  she  was  in  consequence  the 
wealthiest  person  in  the  country.  This  fact  and 
no  other  it  is  that  gives  her  the  place  she  occupies 
in  history.  When  her  life  is  examined,  it  is  not 


96  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

seen  that  patriotic  considerations  governed  her 
actions  in  any  way.  The  ruling  motive  in  her 
actions  was  a  far  lower  one ;  it  seems  to  have  been 
mainly  a  very  strong  ambition  to  increase  her 
possessions  and  magnify  her  position.  Time  and 
again  we  see  her  seize  upon  estates  that  do  not 
belong  to  her,  and  hold  them  until  forced  to  restore 
them ;  when  she  marries  her  daughters  to  Danish 
nobles,  it  is  because  she  finds  her  account  in  so 
doing,  since  these  nobles  are  the  most  eligible 
matches  that  she  can  find ;  when  she  interests  her- 
self in  a  convent  and  does  it  services,  she  knows 
how  to  get  well  repaid  in  this  world's  goods;  and 
even  when  she  performs  an  act  of  benevolence, 
she  looks  for  compensation.  For  example,  she 
gives  shelter  to  Peder  Kansler  from  his  pursuers, 
but  she  accepts  from  him  a  massive  gold  ring,  a 
hundred  Rhenish  florins,  and  a  quantity  of  rose 
nobles  and  Hungarian  florins,  and  when  she  es- 
pouses later  the  cause  of  the  "  Dalcjunker,"  it  is 
because  she  has  betrothed  one  of  her  daughters  to 
him  in  the  hope  that  he  may  become  king  of 
Sweden.  In  this  and  in  other  respects  she  is 
no  worse  than  her  age,  but  she  is  also  no  better ; 
and,  so  far  from  feeling  grief  at  having  bestowed 
her  daughters  upon  strangers,  she  has  the  most 
cordial  relations  with  her  step-sons,  and  allows  her- 
self to  be  led  at  will  by  Vincent  Lunge,  the  oldest 


APPRENTICESHIP.  97 

of  them,  whom  she  regards  as  the  head  of  the 
family  after  Nils  Gyldenlove's  death.1  It  is  from 
this  unpromising  material  that  Ibsen's  poetical 
genius  has  shaped  the  magnificent  tragic  figure 
with  which  we  are  all  acquainted. 

It  was  not,  however,  until  after  the  creation 
of  Ibsen's  drama  that  the  life  of  Fru  Inger  Ottes- 
datter  was  fully  cleared  up  by  historical  investi- 
gation, and,  although  some  of  her  more  charac- 
teristic features  had  been  at  the  time  pointed 
out,  she  was  still  partly  enigmatical,  and  her 
story  offered  much  room  for  conjecture  and  ex- 
planation. The  way  in  which  Ibsen  accounts  for 
her  actions  by  making  the  "  Dalejunker "  the  il- 
legitimate fruit  of  her  love  for  Sten  Sture  is  as 
historically  perverse  as  it  is  poetically  genial. 
Every  one  knows  that  this  was  not  the  case.  It 
is  notorious,  both  that  the  "  Dalejunker "  was  a 
cotter's  son,  and  that  Fru  Inger  and  Vincent 
Lunge  believed  in  the  justice  of  his  claims,  hop- 
ing to  win  some  advantage  by  attaching  him  to 
themselves,  since  the  rumor  was  just  then  spread 
about  that  Gustav  Vasa  had  died.  But  Ibsen  has 
boldly  risen  superior  to  these  facts,  and  what  his 
piece  has  thereby  lost  in  historical  accuracy,  ic 

1  These  historical  sketches  of  the  characters  of  the  play  are 
based  upon  Professor  L.  Daae's  essay,  "  Fru  Inger  Ottesdatter 
and  Her  Daughters." 


98  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

has  gained  many  times  over  in  tragic  depth.  It 
is  the  deep  and  despairing  struggle  in  Fru  Inger's 
soul  between  maternal  affection  and  love  of  coun- 
try that  makes  her  the  powerful  tragic  character 
she  appears.  Thus  by  perverting  history  Ibsen 
has  won  a  great  poetic  victory. 

He  has  dealt  no  less  freely  with  the  relation 
between  the  two  characters  which,  next  to  that 
of  Fru  Inger,  are  the  most  important  in  the  play, 
—  those  of  Eline  and  Nils  Lykke,  The  only  fact 
that  the  poet  has  introduced  is  that  of  Nils  Lykke's 
love  for  both  Eline  and  her  sister  Lucia.  He  has 
altered  everything  else. 

The  real  Nils  Lykke  was  married  to  Eline  Gyl- 
denlove  in  1528,  who  died  after  five  years  of  wed- 
lock, leaving  her  husband  two  children.  After  a 
time  an  affection  grew  between  him  and  his  sister- 
in-law  Lucia,  but  this  met  with  the  most  energetic 
opposition  from  the  family,  because  the  marriage 
of  a  man  with  his  deceased  wife's  sister  was  then 
regarded  as  incestuous.  All  the  prayers  of  Lucia 
and  Nils  Lykke  were  in  vain,  and  a  son  having 
been  born  to  them,  poor  Nils  Lykke  was  impris- 
oned, convicted,  and  slain  in  prison  in  the  year 
of  our  Lord  1535. 

Ibsen  either  had  no  eye  for  the  motive  to  be 
found  in  the  story  of  love,  or  he  could  make  no 
use  of  it.  He  set  Lucia's  love  so  far  back  in  the 


APPRENTICESHIP,  99 

story  that  Eline  becomes  the  second  of  the  sisters 
to  love  Nils  Lykke,  and  he  has  so  altered  their 
relations  that  they  come  to  resemble  those  of 
Catiline  with  Furia.  Like  the  latter,  Eline  loves  the 
man  who  has  been  the  cause  of  her  sister's  death, 
and  hates  the  seducer,  not  knowing  him  to  be  one 
with  her  lover.  And,  like  Catiline,  Nils  Lykke 
is  represented  by  Ibsen  as  a  libertine  with  whom 
one  love  affair  more  or  less  is  of  slight  conse- 
quence. But  here  the  resemblance  ceases,  for 
Kline's  submission  is  as  little  like  Furia's  venge- 
fulness  as  Nils  Lykke's  crafty  diplomacy  is  like 
Catiline's  blind  Berserker  career.  It  is  the  funda- 
mental relation,  not  the  individual  characterization, 
that  Ibsen  has  brought  forth  again  and  utilized  in 
this  play.1 

As  we  see,  Ibsen  has  handled  the  historical 
facts  very  freely.  In  this  respect  he  has  not  fol- 
lowed Hettner,  who  maintains  that  historical  tra- 
gedy must  respect  history.  The  words  with  which, 
in  a  postscript  to  "  Catilina,"  Ibsen  sets  forth  his 

1  It  seems  to  me  that  Georg  Brandes  turns  things  upside  down 
when,  in  his  first  characterization  of  Ibsen,  he  draws  a  parallel 
between  Catiline  and  Nils  Lykke,  and  says :  "  That  nothing  may 
be  wanting  in  this  resemblance  the  poet  has  taken  the  funda- 
mental motive  from  '  Catilina,'  "  etc.  It  is,  in  fact,  the  entire  like- 
ness that  is  wanting.  Vasenius  has  also  protested  against  thus 
drawing  a  parallel  'between  Catiline  and  Nils  Lykke.  See  Bran- 
des, "  Esthetic  Studies,"  and  Vasenius,  "  Ibsen's  Dramatic 
Works." 


IOO  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

attitude  towards  the  facts  of  history,  might,  with 
even  greater  justice,  be  applied  to  "  Fru  Inger  of 
Oestraat."  In  this  postscript  he  writes  as  follows: 
"  Historical  materials  are  utilized  in  part  only,  and 
as  far  as  they  may  be  considered  to  invest  the  cen- 
tral idea  of  the  piece."  And  he  very  reasonably 
adds:  "  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  author  will  be 
pardoned  for  having  given  historical  names  to  per- 
sons who,  both  as  to  character  and  other  circum- 
stances, appear  otherwise  than  history  reveals  them 
to  us ;  and  all  the  more  because  these  names  are 
hardly  so  conspicuous  that  their  appearance  un- 
der circumstances  which  history  does  not  record 
should  make  a  confusing  impression." 

For  Ibsen  the  dramatist,  history  at  that  time 
meant  no  more  than  we  have  seen  reality  to  have 
meant  for  Ibsen  the  lyric  poet.  It  was  only  the 
starting-point  from  which  he  set  forth  for  the 
world  of  his  own  thoughts  and  fancies. 

From  the  age  of  the  Reformation  Ibsen  turned 
to  the  saga  period.  "  But  the  royal  sagas  and  the 
sterner  traditions  generally  of  that  remote  period 
did  not  attract  me,"  he  says  in  the  preface  to  the 
second  edition  of  "  The  Feast  at  Solhaug."  "  My 
poetic  ends  could  not  at  that  time  be  served  by 
conflicts  between  kings  and  chieftains,  between 
parties  and  mobs.  That  was  to  come  later."  But 
chance  then  brought  to  his  hand  N.  M.  Peter- 


APPRENTICESHIP.  ioi 

sen's  "  Historical  Tales  of  the  Icelanders  at  Home 
and  Abroad,"  and  the  perusal  of  these  excellent 
translations  and  paraphrases  of  some  of  the  old 
Icelandic  race-sagas  had  a  marked  influence  over 
him.  "  In  these  race-chronicles,"  we  read  further 
in  the  preface  just  mentioned,  "with  their  portrayal 
of  the  varying  relations  of  man  to  man,  of  woman 
to  woman,  especially  of  human  being  to  human 
being,  there  appealed  to  me  a  rich  and  personal 
vitality,  and  from  my  life  with  these  individual  men 
and  women  of  the  past,  the  first  crude  and  dimly- 
outlined  sketch  of  '  The  Chieftains  of  Helgeland ' 
shaped  itself  in  my  thought." 

How  far  the  details  were  thought  out  by  him,  he 
can  no  longer  remember ;  but  the  two  women  were 
there  who  were  afterwards  to  become  Hjordis  and 
Dagny.  And  there  was  also  "  a  great  feast,  with 
stirring  and  pregnant  strife." 

"  But  here  various  considerations  interfered. 
Most  of  them,  at  least  those  which  were  strong- 
est and  most  decisive,  were  of  a  personal  char- 
acter, but  I  do  not  think  it  altogether  insignificant 
that  I  busied  myself  just  then  with  the  study  of 
Landstad's  collection  of  '  Norwegian  Popular 
Songs,'  which  had  appeared  a  year  or  two  be- 
fore. My  mood  just  then  acco/ded  better  with 
the  literary  romanticism  of  the  Middle  Ages  than 
with  the  hard  facts  of  the  sagas,  better  with  the 


102  HENRI K  IBSEN. 

verse  form  than  with  prose,  and  better  with  the 
element  of  melodious  speech  in  the  battle-song 
than  with  the  language  characteristic  of  the  saga." 
With  this  confession  to  aid  us,  it  is  not  difficult 
to  imagine  the  mood  in  which  the  folk-song  came 
between  Ibsen  and  the  saga,  which  transformed 
the  viking  Sigurd  into  the  singer  Gudmund,  the 
faithful  wife  Dagny  into  the  young  and  love-sick 
Signe,  and  the  sketch  of  the  tragedy  of  the  "  Chief- 
tains "  into  the  lyrical  love-drama,  "  The  Feast  at 
Solhaug."  Besides,  we  find  among  Ibsen's  poems 
one  or  two  which  shed  a  light  upon  his  feelings. 
That  entitled  "  Field  Flowers  and  Potted  Plants  " 
begins  thus :  — 

"  Your  taste  I  cannot  understand  at  all ; 

For  Heaven's  sake,  where  are  your  eyes  ? 
Surely  a  beauty  you  will  not  call 

Such  a  giddy  thing,  if  you  are  wise," 

and  ends  with  the  following  stanza :  — 

"  Shrewd  reason  to  me  no  comfort  yields, 

With  its  wearisome  tale  twice-told  ; 
For  she  is  a  child  of  the  air  and  the  fields, 
And  sixteen  bright  summers  old." 

And  the  poem  that  comes  next  in  the  collection, 
"  A  Bird  Song,"  suggests  the  mood  that  has  found 
expression  in  the  story  of  Signe's  and  Gudmund's 
love :  — 

"  I  painted  poem-pictures 

With  play  of  colors  bright, 
While  two  brown  eyes  were  watching, 
All  filled  with  laughing  light." 


APPRENTICESHIP.  1 03 

It  was  doubtless  under  the  influence  of  these 
lively  brown  eyes  that  "  The  Feast  at  Solhaug  " 
came  into  being.  So  the  piece  has  remained  as  the 
brightest  and  most  cheerful  among  Ibsen's  works ; 
there  are,  indeed,  dark  and  threatening  storm- 
clouds  on  the  horizon,  but  they  disperse  without 
having  wrought  any  destruction ;  the  dissonances 
have  no  serious  result,  and  the  play  ends  with  a  rich 
final  harmony.  It  is  not  alone  in  its  rhythmical 
aspect  that  "  a  light  summer  zephyr  breathes " 
over  the  piece,  to  use  Ibsen's  own  expression. 

"  The  Feast  at  Solhaug  "  brought  its  author  suc- 
cess. It  was  played  before  a  crowded  house  and 
greeted  with  uproarious  applause.  "  At  the  close 
of  the  performance,  author  and  actors  were  called 
out  several  times.  Later  in  the  evening  the  or- 
chestra, accompanied  by  a  large  portion  of  the 
audience,  serenaded  me  at  the  window.  I  almost 
believe  that  I  was  carried  away  to  the  extent  of 
making  some  sort  of  a  speech  to  the  crowd ;  at 
any  rate,  I  know  that  I  felt  very  happy  "  (Preface 
to  the  second  edition).  The  piece  received  six 
performances  during  that  season,  a  large  number 
for  Bergen,  and  was  revived  a  number  of  times 
afterwards.  For  the  first  time  it  made  Ibsen's 
name  known  in  wider  circles,  for  it  was  given 
not  only  in  Christiania,  but  also  in  Copenhagen 
and  Stockholm. 


104  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

But  if  theatre  and  public  received  the  piece  fa- 
vorably, the  critics  were  not  so  well  disposed.  A 
score  of  years  previously  Henrik  Hertz  in  his  play 
"  Svend  Uyring's  House,"  had  used  the  metre  of 
the  Danish  battle-songs,  and  now  that  Ibsen  had 
made  use  of  a  similar  metre,  taken  from  the  Norse 
popular  songs,  his  work  was  at  once  characterized 
as  an  imitation  of  Hertz.  When  the  piece  was 
produced  in  Christiania,  some  of  the  critics  of  the 
press  endeavored  to  point  out  similarities,  and 
when  the  play  became  known  in  Denmark,  things 
were  naturally  worse  rather  than  better.  It  was 
"  a  study  of  '  Svend  Dyring's  House,'  and  far  in- 
ferior to  its  model  in  every  respect;  "  it  was 
"  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  colorless  copy 
of  Hertz's  play;  "  it  was  "  a  bad  Norwegian 
copy  of  a  good  Danish  work,"  etc. 

That  these  judgments  are  very  superficial  and 
misleading  has  been  clearly  and  carefully  shown 
by  Vasenius  in  his  graduating  thesis.  Vasenius 
analyzes  both  pieces,  points  out  the  great  dramatic 
faults  of  Hertz's  drama,  and  concludes  that  "  The 
Feast  at  Solhaug "  is  a  far  better  work,  dramat- 
ically, than  its  assumed  prototype,  a  conclusion 
to  which  any  just  dramaturgical  objection  can 
hardly  be  made.  But  he  is  not  contented  with 
this,  and  goes  on  to  compare  the  motives  and  the 
characters  of  the  two  pieces,  easily  proving  that 


APPRENTICESHIP.  105 

they  have  nothing  to  do  with  one  another.  Who- 
ever looks  closely  into  the  matter  must  see  that 
any  attempt  to  explain  "  The  Feast  at  Solhaug  " 
as  an  imitation  of  "  Svend  Dyring's  House "  is 
only  made  possible  by  completely  setting  aside 
the  leading  motive  and  the  principal  characters  of 
Ibsen's  piece.  With  Hertz  the  principal  motive 
is,  as  we  know,  Ridder  Stig's  disastrous  use  of  the 
mysterious  runes,  and  the  pregnant  consequences 
for  Ragnhild.  About  this  are  grouped  these  sec- 
ondary motives:  I.  The  wicked  Guldborg's  cru- 
elty to  her  step-children,  whose  mother  cannot 
rest  in  her  grave  because  of  the  treatment  they 
receive,  but  hovers  about  them  in  ghostly  guise. 
2.  Ridder  Stig's  love  for  Regisse.  3.  Tage  Bolt's 
wooing  of  Ragnhild. 

In  Ibsen's  piece  there  are  no  runes  and  there  is 
no  mysterious  power  that  answers  to  them.  There 
is  nothing  supernatural  in  Margit's  love  for  Gud- 
mund  Alfson ;  it  arises  and  is  developed  in  the 
most  natural  manner  possible.  Nor  is  there  in 
Ibsen  anything  corresponding  to  the  wicked  step- 
mother and  the  ghost.  On  the  other  hand,  there 
is  a  certain  resemblance  between  Ridder  Stig's 
and  Gudmund  Alfson's  position  as  between  the 
two  sisters.  Both  Stig  and  Gudmund  are  loved  by 
both  and  disdain  one  of  them,  but  this  situation  is 
too  common  in  literature  and  not  characteristic 


106  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

enough  to  afford  a  basis  for  the  charge  of  imita- 
tion. If  the  charge  might  be  brought  upon  such 
grounds  as  these,  the  most  absurd  consequences 
would  follow.  Finally,  there  is  a  similarity  be- 
tween Tage  Bolt's  place  in  the  construction  of  the 
Danish  piece  and  Knud  Gjcesling's  place  in  the 
Norwegian.  Both  Tage  and  Knud  woo  one  of 
the  two  sisters ;  the  suit  of  both  is  lost,  under  very 
different  circumstances,  indeed,  but  on  account  of 
the  respective  love  of  the  sisters  for  Ridder  Stig 
and  Gudmund  Alfson  ;  both  seek  revenge  in  a  noc- 
turnal attack  upon  the  place ;  and  both  are  over- 
powered and  bound.  Let  it  be  admitted  that 
Hertz's  play  influenced  Ibsen  upon  this  point; 
such  a  correspondence  of  minor  motive  is  surely 
not  enough  to  make  the  piece  neither  more  nor 
less  than  a  copy,  especially  when  there  is  so  great 
a  difference  in  the  leading  motive. 

The  leading  motive  in  "  The  Feast  at  Solhaug  " 
finds  nothing  whatever  to  correspond  with  it  in 
"  Svend  Dyring's  House."  The  leading  motive  is 
Margit's  love  for  Gudmund,  and  I  have  already 
remarked  that  this  love  is  not  characterized  by 
anything  supernatural  in  its  origin  and  develop- 
ment. Nor  is  its  main  characteristic  to  be  found 
in  the  fact  that  it  is  scorned,  so  that  in  this  respect 
also  it  is  unlike  Ragnhild's.  Margit  believes  that 
Gudmund  would  prefer  her  if  he  were  free ;  her 


APPRENTICESHIP.  107 

love  is  depicted  as  that  of  a  married  woman  for  a 
stranger.  Upon  this  situation  alone  is  the  struggle 
of  the  play  based,  and  every  attempt  to  explain 
it  upon  the  theory  of  its  being  an  imitation  of 
"  Svend  Dyring's  House  "  must  necessarily  prove 
futile,  and  this  especially  since  Ibsen,  in  the  pre- 
face to  the  second  edition,  has  explained  the  gen- 
esis of  the  piece  in  so  interesting  and  satisfactory  a 
manner. 

But  back  of  all  this  there  is  still  the  formal  re- 
semblance which  comes  from  the  use  of  the  met- 
rical form  of  the  battle-song.  It  is  not  impossible 
that  "  Svend  Dyring's  House  "  may  have  impelled 
Ibsen  to  make  use  of  that  form,  although  this  is 
denied  by  Ibsen  in  his  preface  to  the  second  edi- 
tion. How  little  he,  at  the  time  of  its  production, 
felt  indebted  to  Hertz  in  this  and  in  other  respects 
is  best  seen  from  the  fact  that  he  produced  "  Svend 
Dyring's  House  "  at  the  Bergen  theatre  less  than 
two  months  after  the  first  production  of  "  The 
Feast  at  Solhaug."  Ibsen's  piece  was  played  for 
the  first  time  January  2,  1856,  and  that  of  Hertz 
followed  February  24. 

Ibsen's  contention  is,  then,  that  his  study  of 
Landstad's  "  Folk-Songs  "  offers  a  sufficient  ex- 
planation of  the  form  given  to  his  piece,  and  when 
we  read  his  little  essay,  of  the  following  year, 
"  Upon  the  Battle-Song  and  its  Poetic  Signifi- 


108  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

cance,"  and  see  how  warm  a  welcome  he  gave 
the  folk-song,  and  how  great  a  part  he  thought 
it  destined  to  play  in  poetic  art,  such  an  ex- 
planation as  he  offers  seems  wholly  plausible. 
"  The  time  will  come,"  wrote  Ibsen  upon  that 
occasion,  "  when  the  national  poetry  will  turn  to 
the  folk-song  as  to  an  inexhaustible  gold  mine, 
and  when  the  latter,  refined,  restored  to  its  pristine 
purity,  and  exalted  by  art,  will  again  take  hold 
of  the  people."  As  a  dramatic  author  he  even 
preferred  the  folk-song  to  the  saga.  "  The  saga 
is  wholly  epic,"  he  writes,  "  while  the  battle-song 
has  the  lyric  element.  —  has  it,  although  not  as 
the  drama  has  it,  —  and  the  dramatic  poet  who 
takes  his  material  from  the  song,  does  not  need 
to  remodel  his  material  as  much  as  does  the  poet 
who  takes  it  from  the  saga.  This  circumstance 
is  advantageous  to  the  poet,  for  it  enables  him 
to  reproduce  in  his  work  a  more  exact  and  a 
more  intimate  picture  of  the  age  and  the  events 
with  which  he  deals ;  by  this  means  (if  he  be 
otherwise  competent)  he  can  present  his  hero  to 
the  public  as  the  public  already  knows  him  from 
the  folk-song.  Furthermore,  the  commodious 
metre  of  the  song  allows  of  much  freedom  in  its 
use,  and  this  is  of  great  importance  in  dramatic 
dialogue;  so  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  sooner 
or  later  this  poetic  quarry  will  be  largely  drawn 


APPRENTICESHIP.  1 09 

upon  by  the  poet,  who  will  erect  his  structure 
upon  the  foundation  laid  by  Oehlenschlaeger.  .  .  . 
National  poetry  in  Norway  began  with  the  saga ; 
the  turn  of  the  battle-song  has  now  come." 

It  was,  then,  in  the  spirit  and  the  style  of  the 
battle-song  that  "  Olaf  Liljekrans,"  Ibsen's  next 
dramatic  work,  was  written.  It  'is  more  romantic 
in  mood  than  "  The  Feast  at  Solhaug,"  although 
not  to  be  compared  with  that  work  for  strength 
and  firmness  of  hand. 

The  action  of  this  unprinted  three-act  drama 
may  be  outlined  as  follows :  — 

Fru  Kirsten  Liljekrans  and  her  neighbor,  Arne 
from  Guldvik,  have  agreed  to  put  an  end  to  the 
feud  long  existing  between  their  two  families,  and, 
to  seal  the  reconciliation,  Arne's  daughter  Inge- 
berg  is  to  wed  Fru  Kirsten's  son  Olaf.  Both 
Arne  and  Fru  Kirsten  are  very  much  interested 
in  having  the  wedding  come  off;  the  former,  who 
is  an  ambitious  peasant,  desires  to  become  con- 
nected with  so  distinguished  a  family  as  that  of 
Liljekrans ;  the  latter  wishes  to  support  the  tot- 
tering family  finances  by  means  of  the  substantial 
possessions  of  the  man  of  Guldvik.  Just  before 
the  wedding,  however,  Olaf  makes  an  excursion 
into  the  mountains,  and  there,  in  a  mountain  val- 
ley, meets  a  young  girl,  Alfhild,  who  makes  so 
marked  an  impression  upon  him  that  he  forgets 


1 10  HENRI K  IBSEN. 

his  betrothed  and  everything  else,  and  begs  Alf- 
hild  to  return  with  him  to  the  village  and  become 
his  wife.  Alfhild  is  a  child  of  nature ;  the  moun- 
tain valley  in  which  she  has  grown  up  in  the 
society  of  her  father,  Thorgeir  the  fiddler,  has  not 
been  populated  since  it  was  ravaged  by  the  Black 
Death,  and  she  has  never  been  out  of  the  valley. 
With  nafve  delight  at  thought  of  the  novel  sights 
awaiting  her,  she  follows  Olaf;  but  they  have 
barely  reached  the  village  when  Olaf  remembers 
his  earlier  obligations,  and  his  mother's  pleas  cause 
him  to  desert  Alfhild.  Beside  herself  with  grief 
and  despair,  the  latter  sets  fire  to  the  house,  the 
scene  of  the  wedding,  and  hastens  back  to  her 
far-off  valley,  while  at  the  same  time  the  bride 
takes  flight  with  Hemming,  her  father's  workman, 
whom  she  prefers  to  Olaf.  Alfhild  is  pursued 
and  seized  by  Fru  Kirsten  and  her  people;  she 
is  condemned  to  death  upon  the  spot,  and  the 
sentence  is  to  be  at  once  executed,  unless  "  some 
man  of  spotless  fame  shall  step  fonvard,  declare 
her  innocent,  and  proclaim  himself  willing  to 
marry  her  then  and  there."  At  the  last  moment 
Olaf  Liljekrans  appears,  and,  repenting  of  his 
former  weakness,  declares  that  he  will  save  and 
wed  her,  to  which  resolution  Fru  Kirsten  finally 
gives  her  consent,  upon  learning  that  the  rich, 
uninhabited  valley  belongs  to  Alfhild.  At  the 


APPRENTICESHIP.  1 1 1 

end,  Ingeberg  and  Hemming  also  receive  Arne's 
forgiveness  and   blessing. 

As  we  know,  there  is  a  folk-song  bearing  the  title 
of  Ibsen's  piece.  It  may  be  found  in  Landstad's 
"  Norwegian  Folk-Songs."  The  Olaf  Liljekrans  of 
the  song  is  betrothed  as  in  the  play,  and  the  wed- 
ding is  soon  to  be  held.  Then  he  meets  the  elves, 
who  seek  to  bewitch  him,  but  he  resists  their  en- 
chantments, and  does  not  allow  himself  to  be 
frightened  at  their  threats.  For  this  they  punish 
him  with  such  blows  that  he  dies  shortly  after  re- 
turning home.  One  or  two  passages  in  the  piece 
refer  to  this  song,  and  a  little  of  the  dialogue  is 
borrowed  from  its  verse.  Probably  the  idea  of 
Fru  Kirsten  was  taken  from  the  folk-song  in  which 
Olaf 's  mother  plays  a  part  similar  to  that  played 
by  Fru  Kirsten  in  the  beginning  of  the  piece ;  and 
Olafs  bereft  and  perplexed  condition,  as  repre- 
sented in  the  first  act,  may  be  considered  a  feature 
which  we  owe  to  the  influence  of  the  folk-song. 
But  there  is  no  further  resemblance  between  the 
song  and  the  drama.  Beyond  this  they  have  noth- 
ing in  common  either  in  action  or  in  character. 

Neither  was  the  folk-song  the  germ  of  the  piece. 
This  has  already  developed  root  and  stem  before 
the  influence  of  the  folk-song  makes  itself  felt,  and 
so  any  such  influence  has  little  to  do  with  the  de- 
velopment of  the  action.  What  it  does  chiefly  is 


1 12  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

to  give  the  play  a  figure  and  a  name.  This  figure 
is  not,  however,  the  principal  character;  Alfhild 
must  be  considered  as  occupying  that  position, 
and  it  may  be  shown  that  hers  is  the  oldest  figure 
in  the  piece. 

This  young  girl,  living  in  a  mountain  valley,  the 
inhabitants  of  which  died  when  "  the  great  plague 
swept  over  the  villages,"  is  found,  when  looked  at 
more  closely,  to  be  no  other  than  the  "  Justedals- 
rypa  "  of  the  legend.  This  legend,  as  given  by  A. 
Faye,  first  gave  Ibsen  the  idea  of  his  drama.  The 
very  year  when  he  wrote  "  Catilina  "  he  was  plan- 
ning to  deal  dramatically  with  the  story  of  "  Juste- 
dalrypa,"  and  he  even  set  to  work.  The  work  was 
put  aside,  however,  after  the  first  two  acts  had  been 
written,  but  the  manuscript  of  1850  still  exists,  and 
bears  the  title,  "  The  Grouse l  of  Justedal :  a  Na- 
tional Play  in  Four  Acts."  The  title-figure  is  that 
of  Alfhild  in  "  Olaf  Liljekrans,"  and  she  even  bears 
that  name,  while  the  action  seems  to  have  been 
planned  much  as  it  was  worked  out  in  the  later 
and  completed  drama. 

"  Olaf  Liljekrans  "  brings  to  an  end  the  period 
of  Ibsen's  apprenticeship  in  Bergen ;  it  was  the 
last  of  the  pieces  written  by  him  for  the  Bergen 
theatre  during  his  management.  It  marks  the 
close,  as  "  St.  John's  Night "  marks  the  beginning; 
1  "  Rype"  means  grouse  or  ptarmigan.  —  TR. 


APPRENTICESHIP.  113 

and  the  two  pieces  have  a  certain  similarity  to  one 
another.  They  are  both  somewhat  tentative,  vague, 
and  inconsequent,  and  the  reason  is  that  they  stand 
at  the  boundaries  of  a  peculiar  period  of  Ibsen's 
development.  In  "  St.  John's  Night  "  the  roman- 
ticism of  the  folk-song  begins  to  exert  an  influence : 
in  "  Olaf  Liljekrans  "  this  influence  is  about  to  dis- 
appear. Just  as  "  St.  John's  Night  "  was  preceded 
by  a  definition  of  national  poetry,  so  "  Olaf  Lilje- 
krans "  is  followed  by  an  aesthetic  discussion. 
This  is  the  already  mentioned  essay,  "  Upon  the 
Battle-Song  and  its  Poetic  Significance."  The 
passage  quoted  shows  how  great  an  importance 
was  attached  by  Ibsen  to  the  influence  of  the  folk- 
song; but  his  practice  did  not  fully  carry  out  his 
theory.  In  "  Olaf  Liljekrans,"  as  we  have  already 
said,  the  romantic  influence  of  the  folk-song  has 
almost  disappeared. 

Formally  considered,  the  dissolution  of  this 
influence  may  be  seen  at  the  first  glance.  Verse 
and  prose  struggle  with  one  another  for  prece- 
dence, and  in  this  case,  unlike  '*  The  Feast  at 
Solhaug,"  it  is  not  only  the  lyrical  portion  which 
is  written  in  verse ;  but  commonplace  minor  scenes 
are  given  in  metrical  form,  while  romantic  love- 
scenes  between  the  leading  characters  appear  in 
prose  garb. 

The   lack   of   definiteness    on   the    part   of  the 


114  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

psychological  development  is,  if  possible,  even 
more  marked.  A  striking  change  of  mood  is 
characteristic  both  of  Olaf  and  Alfhild.  At  one 
moment  they  arc  romantically  inclined,  at  the 
next  they  speak  in  a  wholly  natural  and  practi- 
cal manner.  Upon  the  mountain  in  the  first  act 
Olaf  speaks  and  thinks  in  such  a  manner  that 
we  can  easily  believe  Alfhild  to  be  a  genuine 
elf-woman  who  has  bewitched  him,  and  not  an 
ordinary  mortal  with  whom  he  has  fallen  in  love ; 
but  hardly  has  he  returned  to  the  village  when 
the  romantic  mood  leaves  him,  and  he  is  bent 
by  the  every-day  considerations  which  the  mother 
urges.  It  is  thus  also  with  Alfhild.  After  she 
has  set  fire  to  the  bridal  house,  her  mood  is  at 
high  romantic  pressure,  she  speaks  "  with  a  marked 
and  growing  accent  of  bewilderment,"  according 
to  the  direction  given  in  the  manuscript;  but 
when  she  is  seized  and  brought  before  Fru  Kirsten 
for  judgment,  she  is  quiet,  self-possessed,  and 
natural.  Transitions  like  this,  abrupt  and  un- 
motivated,  occur  frequently.  Romanticism  no 
longer  furnishes  the  main  spring  of  action;  it 
appears  rather  in  a  series  of  outward  effects. 

And  finally,  when  we  consider  the  idea  of  the 
piece,  we  become  again  sensible  of  the  dissolution 
of  the  romantic  influence.  For  this  idea  is  that 
of  the  conflict  between  the  romantic  and  the  real. 


APPRENTICESHIP.  1 1 5 

These  two  conflicting  views  of  life  appear  in  Olaf 
in  direct  contrast.  Under  Alfhild's  influence  he 
sees  everything  with  romantic  eyes;  but  under 
his  mother's  influence  things  appear  to  him  as 
they  really  are.  Alfhild  is  cast  in  a  wholly 
different  mould,  and-  the  contradiction  that  exists 
in  Olaf's  character,  exists  for  her  only  as  a  form 
of  external  resistance.  She  represents  the  roman- 
tic at  strife  with  brutal  reality,  and  her  defeat  in 
this  struggle  is  like  any  other  triumph  of  the  real. 
But  Ibsen's  sympathy  is  still  upon  the  romantic 
side  and  it  is  with  bitter  despondency  that  he 
allows  romanticism  to  draw  the  shorter  straw. 

"  Olaf  Liljekrans "  had  but  two  performances. 
Ibsen  himself  was  not  pleased  with  his  piece  and 
never  had  it  printed.  Two  years  after  its  pro- 
duction he  sought  to  transform  it  into  a  romantic 
opera.  The  first  act  was  completed  and  put  aside 
for  a  couple  of  years ;  then  he  took  it  up  again, 
began  the  second  act,  and  sent  a  copy  of  the  first 
to  the  composer  Udbye,  who  had  expressed  a 
willingness  to  write  the  music ;  but  hardly  had  he 
taken  this  step,  when  the  whole  plan  was  given 
up.1 

1  The  original  manuscript,  dated  1859,  belongs  to  a  gentleman 
in  Christiania.  The  copy  sent  to  Udbye  belongs  to  the  Scientific 
Society  of  Throndhjem,  together  with  Ibsen's  letter  to  Udbye, 
dated  July  18,  1861,  and  the  latter's  account  of  the  subsequent 
dealings  between  poet  and  composer. 


Il6  HENKIK  IBSEN. 

The  simple  fact  is  that  when  "  Olaf  Liljekrans  " 
was  written  Ibsen's  development  had  reached  a 
point  from  which  there  was  no  way  leading  back  to 
romanticism.  Everything  pointed  onward  to  new 
fields  and  new  horizons.  One  period  of  his  de- 
velopment was  closed,  and  a. new  one  was  to  be- 
gin. The  folk-song  had  nothing  further  to  offer 
him ;  it  was  now  the  turn  of  the  saga. 

And  at  this  time  also  the  five  years  were  over 
for  which  he  was  pledged  to  the  Bergen  theatre  as 
director.  Dramaturgically  considered,  they  had 
been  fruitful  years  for  him,  and  they  had  been 
made  significant  for  his  development  by  the  ferment 
of  romanticism.  But  the  process  of  fermentation 
was  now  over,  with  the  period  of  his  apprentice- 
ship ;  he  had  mastered  his  art ;  he  had  attained, 
provisionally  at  least,  to  clearness  and  rest. 

But  the  clearness  and  rest  were  not  to  last  long, 
and  new  struggles,  new  doubts,  were  awaiting  him 
under  changed  conditions. 

A  new  position  —  that  of  director  of  the  Nor- 
wegian theatre  at  Christiania  —  was  ready  to  re- 
ceive him,  and  the  city  that  had  witnessed  his 
early  struggle  for  existence,  was,  during  the  seven 
years  following,  to  witness  the  struggle  of  his  man- 
hood for  a  secure  position  among  poets. 

In  the  summer  of  1857  he  left  Bergen,  returning 
thither  the  next  year  for  a  brief  visit  and  to  wed 


APPRENTICESHIP.  1 1/ 

his  betrothed,  the  one  to  whom,  after  many  years 
of  companionship  for  better  for  worse,  he  was 
to  dedicate  so  charming  an  expression  of  his 
"  Thanks  "  as  the  following :  — 

"  Her  cares  were  the  shadows 

That  darkened  my  road, — 
Her  joys  were  the  angels 
My  pathway  that  showed. 

"  Her 'home  is  out  yonder, 
And  freedom  its  light, 
By  the  sea  where  the  poet 
Sees  imaged  his  flight. 

"  Of  her  race  are  the  figures 

Marching  along, 
With  banners  all  waving, 
Seen  in  my  song. 

"  It  was  she  that  kindled 

My  soul  to  glow ; 
And  all  that  I  owe  her 
None  other  may  know. 

"  And  although  she  awaited 

No  thanks  for  pay, 

I  have  sung  and  printed 

This  grateful  lay  " 


III. 


LIFE    IN    CHRISTIANIA. 

TT7HEN  Ibsen  came  to  Christiania  for  the 
*  *  second  time  he  brought  with  him  the  be- 
ginning of  a  new  dramatic  work.  The  impres- 
sions and  the  images  that  had  been  left  with  him 
from  his  perusal  of  the  Icelandic  race-sagas  had 
continued  to  occupy  his  mind,  and  had,  while  he 
was  still  in  Bergen,  assumed  a  definite  dramatic 
and  psychological  form. 

One  thing  only  was  not  quite  clear  to  him  at 
first,  and  this  was  the  style  in  which  the  saga- 
drama  should  be  written.  In  the  essay  "  Upon 
the  Battle-Song  and  its  Poetic  Significance  "  he 
is  much  busied  with  this  problem. 


LIFE  IN  CHRISTIANIA.  119 

Of  one  thing  he  was  certain,  that  the  form 
chosen  by  Oehlenschlaeger  could  not  be  utilized. 
"  It  will  certainly  come  to  be  recognized,"  he 
wrote,  "  that  the  iambic  pentameter  is  by  no 
means  the  most  appropriate  form  for  the  treatment 
of  subjects  from  the  Scandinavian  past ;  this  form 
of  verse  is  entirely  foreign  to  our  national  metres, 
and  it  is  only  by  means  of  a  national  form  that 
full  justice  may  be  done  the  national  material." 

But  Oehlenschlaeger  had  attempted  another  form 
as  well,  —  that  of  Greek  tragedy.  Might  not  this 
be  the  most  suitable  ?  In  another  passage  of  the 
essay  we  read :  "  Although  the  saga  records  fall 
within  the  Christian  period  of  the  North,  yet  their 
poetry  is  essentially  pagan,  and  so  their  material 
may  be  more  suitably  handled  in  the  old  Greek 
manner  than  in  that  which  is  known  as  the 
modern  Christian  manner.  For  this  reason  Oeh- 
lenschlaeger's  '  Baldur  the  Good '  was  more  suc- 
cessful than  any  other  of  his  dramatic  works." 

According  to  Botten-Hansen's  biography,  Ibsen 
began  to  write  "  The  Chieftains "  in  verse,  and 
from  what  we  have  just  read,  he  must  have  con- 
templated carrying  out  the  work  in  the  Greek 
style.  A  Norse  tragedy  of  fate  in  the  Greek 
style,  —  such  was  probably  the  task  as  it  first 
shaped  itself  for  him. 

But  he  had  not  gone  very  far  before  new  doubts 


120  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

arose.  He  had  already  perceived,  when  he  wrote 
the  essay  on  the  battle-song,  that  still  another 
form  was  available  for  a  work  of  this  sort.  "  A 
prose  '  Haakon  Jarl'  from  Oehlenschlaeger's  pen 
might  be  quite  as  poetic  as  one  in  verse,"  he  had 
written ;  and  that  by  "  prose  "  he  meant  the  style 
of  the  sagas  themselves  may  hardly  be  doubted. 

The  year  before,  Bjornson  had  written  "  Between 
the  Battles,"  which  had  not  yet,  however,  been 
either  printed  or  performed.  In  that  little  work 
the  attempt  was  made,  for  the  first  time,  to  employ 
the  saga  style  in  dramatic  poetry,  but  Bjornson 
was  too  young  and  too  lyrically  inclined  to  be 
successful  in  conforming  to  the  strict  require- 
ments of  that  style.  So  it  was  really  Ibsen  who 
first  brought  it  into  dramatic  use,  while  Bjornson 
at  the  same  time,  in  "  Synnove  Solbakken,"  again 
brought  it  into  employment  for  narrative  purposes. 
So  these  two  poets  found  themselves  on  common 
ground  for  the  first  time,  —  each,  independently  of 
the  other,  turning  to  the  pithy  and  laconic  modes 
of  expression  of  the  old  Norsemen  in  search  of  a 
form  for  the  embodiment  of  his  ideas. 

The  manner  in  which  Ibsen  solved  the  prob- 
lem has  justly  been  admired  both  by  con- 
temporary and  later  critics.  Here  is  nothing 
superfluous  and  nothing  unessential ;  no  mono- 
logue, and  no  lyric  outburst;  the  dialogue  glows 


LIFE  IN  CHRISTIANIA.  121 

with  passion,  but  the  glow  never  becomes  flame  or 
gives  out  sparks ;  here  is  caustic  wit  and  biting 
repartee,  but  the  fighting  is  not  carried  on  with 
light  rapiers ;  we  seem  to  be  watching  a  battle 
for  life  and  death  with  the  short,  heavy  swords 
which  the  old  vikings  used,  —  hatred  and  love, 
friendship  and  vengeance,  scorn  and  grief,  —  all 
are  as  intense  as  in  the  sagas  themselves;  their 
style  could  not  find  a  better  match,  and,  as  we 
read,  we  think  involuntarily  of  Henrik  Werge- 
land's  words  about  the  speech  of  the  Norwegian 
mountaineer :  — 

"  As  within  the  forest  ringing, 
Deep  the  shining  axe  strikes  home." 

And  it  is  not  only  the  saga  style,  it  is  the 
soul  as  well  that  speaks  to  us  in  this  greatly 
planned  work. 

One  critic  after  another  has  reproached  the 
author  for  degrading  the  demigods  of  the  "  Vol- 
sunga  Saga"  by  making  them  mere  Norwegian 
and  Icelandic  vikings  of  the  age  of  Erik  Blodox, 
and  for  culling  from  other  sagas  effective  scenes 
for  his  piece.  The  only  one  who,  as  far  as  I 
know,  has  protested  against  these  assertions  is 
Vasenius,  who  maintains  that  Ibsen  did  quite 
right  in  making  vikings  out  of  the  heroes  of  the 
"Volsunga  Saga,"  and  that  he  has  borrowed 
nothing  whatever  from  other  sagas.  He  who 


I  22  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

will  take  the  trouble,  however,  to  look  through 
the  sagas  of  which  there  may  be  question,  will 
perceive  that  neither  view  accurately  states  the 
relation  of  the  piece  to  its  sources. 

"  The  Chieftains  of  Helgeland  "  does  not  stand 
in  as  intimate  a  relation  to  the  "  Volsunga  Saga  " 
as  the  critic  has  assumed.  A  portion  of  the 
story  and  something  of  the  scheme  of  action  of 
the  play  have  been  taken  from  that  saga,  but 
only  the  general  outlines  of  the  saga  have  been 
reproduced,  —  not  its  incidents,  and  even  less  its 
characters. 

Sigurd  Viking,  like  Sigurd  Fafnersbane,  has 
done  the  deed  demanded  by  Hjordis  (Brynhild) 
of  the  man  who  shall  marry  her,  and  has  after- 
ward, like  his  heroic  namesake,  renounced  her 
in  the  interest  of  his  foster-brother  Gunnar,  tak- 
ing himself  another  woman  for  wife.  The  latter, 
in  a  conversation  with  Hjordis  (Brynhild),  ex- 
plains the  situation,  and  Hjordis  in  consequence 
brings  about  Sigurd's  death  and  her  own.  As 
we  see,  all  this  must  be  expressed  in  very  general 
terms,  if  it  is  to  apply  to  both  saga  and  drama. 

Is  there  any  other  resemblance?  Yes,  there 
is  one  more.  After  Gudrun  has  revealed  the 
secret  there  follows  a  scene  in  which  she  en- 
deavors to  quiet  Brynhild,  bidding  her  think  no 
more  about  it;  then  there  is  a  scene  in  which 


LIFE  IN  CHRISTIANA.  12$ 

Sigurd  explains  the  situation  to  Brynhild ;  and, 
finally,  there  is  a  scene  in  which  Brynhild  urges 
Gunnar  to  slay  Sigurd.  All  three  of  these  scenes 
have  analogues  in  the  third  act  of  "  The  Chief- 
tains," but  they  stand  in  a  different  order,  and 
nothing  of  their  contents  has  been  transferred  to 
the  drama. 

It  is  thus  indisputable  that  a  connection  exists 
between  "  The  Chieftains "  and  the  "  Volsunga 
Saga,"  but  the  relation  is  as  free  as  that  of  "  Fru 
Inger  of  Oestraat "  to  the  facts  of  history.  "  The 
Chieftains "  cannot  possibly  be  called  a  drama- 
tization of  the  corresponding  portions  of  the 
"  Volsunga  Saga ;  "  the  piece  cannot  even  be 
accurately  described  as  a  free  dramatic  para- 
phrase. If  we  are  to  be  exact,  we  may  call  it 
a  dramatic  work  which  utilizes,  after  a  consider- 
able alteration,  certain  of  the  leading  features  of 
the  saga. 

The  relation  of  the  piece  to  other  sagas  may 
be  similarly  characterized.  The  circumstances 
under  which  Oernulf  is  slain  find  their  proto- 
types in  "  Egil's  Saga."  Egil's  famous  chant  of 
mourning  for  his  son  is  utilized  in  a  quite  simi- 
lar manner.  Egil,  grieving  for  the  loss  of  his 
son,  refuses  to  take  any  food.  His  daughter 
Thorgerde  then  says:  "Now,  father,  would  I 
wish  that  we  might  live  long  enough  for  thee 


124  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

to  make  a  chant  for  Bodvar,  and  for  me  to  en- 
grave it,  and  thereafter  we  may  die  if  it  seem 
best.  For  it  will  be  long  ere  thy  son  Thorsten 
make  a  chant  for  his  brother;  it  is  "not  fitting 
that  there  be  no  funeral  feast  made  for  him,  yet 
how  may  there  be  such,  if  none  of  us  appear?" 
Egil  replies  that  he  may  now  hardly  sing,  even 
if  he  make  endeavor;  "  but  attempt  it  I  will,"  he 
says.  And  when  the  chant  is  over,  we  read  in 
the  saga :  "  As  Egil  went  on  with  the  chant,  his 
strength  waxed,  and  when  it  was  finished  he 
sang  it  for  Asgerde,  Thorgerde,  and  the  rest  of 
his  people.  Then  he  arose  and  took  the  high 
seat."  Here  Ibsen  has  really  dramatized  the  saga. 
And  other  details,  although  not  quite  so  accu- 
rately reproduced,  may  be  found  in  the  sagas, 
which  Ibsen  learned  to  know  through  Petersen's 
translations.  The  magnificently  conceived  invita- 
tion to  the  feast  in  the  second  act  has  many 
analogies  in  the  sagas.  Oernulfs  question  con- 
cerning the  death  of  Thorolf,  and  the  observation 
made  by  him  in  that  connection,  are  suggested 
by  Kveldulf's  words  upon  the  death  of  his  son 
Thorolf;  what  Hjordis  says  of  the  bow-string 
is  taken  from  Halgerde's  famous  saying  upon 
the  occasion  of  Gunnar  of  Hlidarende's  last  fight; 
while  finally,  in  the  tragic  story  told  of  the  love 
of  Kjartan  and  Gudrun  in  the  "  Laxdsla  Saga," 


LIFE  IN  CHRISTIANIA.  12$ 

we  have  a  narrative  presenting  many  analogies  to 
the  fate  of  Sigurd  and  Hjordis. 

All  these  things  may  be  called  trifles,  but  they 
do  not  permit  us  to  say  that  the  charge  of  borrow- 
ing important  details  from  various  sagas  for  the 
adornment  of  Ibsen's  dramatization  of  the  "  Vol- 
sunga  Saga"  has  been  disproved.  Let  us  look 
at  what  is  of  most  importance,  at  the  characters 
themselves.  Can  it  be  truthfully  said  of  them 
that  they  are  the  "  Volsunga  Saga"  heroes  spoiled 
by  Ibsen? 

What  has  Sigurd  Viking  in  common  with 
Sigurd  Fafnersbane?  Name,  courage,  doughti- 
ness in  battle.  The  name,  which  has  misled  more 
than  one  critic,  was  chosen  by  Ibsen  as  a  common 
viking  name,  and  courage  and  doughtiness  were 
as  common  among  the  vikings  of  the  time  of 
Erik  Blodox  as  among  the  semi-mythical  char- 
acters of  the  "  Volsunga  Saga."  If  Ibsen's  in- 
tention was  to  depict  Sigurd  Fafnersbane,  he 
must  have  been  indeed  a  bungler  not  to  do  it 
better.  But  his  object  was  a  very  different  one ; 
it  was  the  creation  of  a  typical  viking  figure  of 
the  close  of  the  viking  period,  of  the  period  near- 
est to  the  introduction  of  Christianity;  and  this 
task  was  successfully  accomplished  by  him.  And 
what  point  of  contact  is  there  between  the  char- 
acters of  Gunnar  Herse  and  Gunnar  Gjukkesson? 


126  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

The  one  is  as  gentle  and  peacefully  disposed  as 
the  other  is  fierce  and  eager  for  combat.  Finally, 
if  we  are  to  look  for  a  distinct  prototype  of  each 
figure,  we  should  look  to  "  Njal's  Saga "  rather 
than  to  the  "  Volsunga  Saga."  When  Gunnar 
of  Hlidarende  has  overthrown  his  opponent  at 
Rangaa,  he  says,  "  I  know  not  whether  I  should 
be  reckoned  the  less  brave  than  others  in  that 
the  slaying  of  men  is  the  less  to  my  taste."  These 
words  indicate  the  mainspring  of  Gunnar  Herse's 
character.  And  in  the  same  saga  one  might  per- 
haps find  more  of  the  character  of  Hjordis  than 
in  the  "  Volsunga  Saga."  Hjordis  has,  just  like 
Brynhild,  a  true  Valkyrie  nature,  but  she  has 
much  more  in  common  with  the  wicked  women 
of  the  race-sagas.  Her  opposition  to  Kaare  the 
peasant,  her  biting  and  malicious  words  at  the 
feast,  her  sternness  and  vengefulness  bring  her  in- 
to far  closer  kinship  with  Gunnar  of  Hlidarende's 
wife  Halgerde,  —  with  the  difference,  however,  that 
Ibsen  has  endeavored  to  motivate  and  to  make 
humanly  natural  that  which  in  "  Njal's  Saga "  is 
unprovoked  and  unnatural  malevolence.  Prob- 
ably no  one  will  assert  that  Dagny  resembles 
the  Gudrun  of  the  "  Volsunga  Saga."  In  spite 
of  Ibsen's  own  words  in  the  preface  to  "  The 
Feast  at  Solhaug,"  concerning  the  two  female 
types  which  reading  of  the  sagas  revealed  to  him, 


LIFE  IN  CHRISTIANIA.  127 

Dagny  is  not  directly  related  to  anything  in  the 
saga  literature,  unless  Kjartan's  wife,  Hrefna,  in  the 
"  Laxdaela  Saga,"  be  taken  as  having  afforded 
a  bare  suggestion  for  Ibsen's  creation.  Last  of 
all  we  have  Oernulf,  who  is  typical  of  the  elder, 
barbaric,  and  less  civilized  race  of  the  vikings. 
Egil  Skallagrimsbn  in  his  old  age,  and  several 
other  saga  figures,  doubtless  sat  as  models  for 
him.  With  his  venerable  strength,  his  hardiness, 
his  insistence  upon  his  rights,  and  his  love  for 
gold  and  possessions,  he  is  a  typical  figure  of 
the  viking  period. 

I  think  I  have  now  shown  that  any  attempt 
to  explain  "  The  Chieftains  "  as  a  dramatic  para- 
phrase of  the  "  Volsunga  Saga,"  based  upon  a 
comparison  between  play  and  saga,  must  prove 
abortive.  It  would  satisfactorily  characterize  the 
work  to  say  that  Ibsen  gathered  his  impressions 
from  reading  a  whole  series  of  sagas,  and  that 
he  worked  them  freely  into  an  organic  whole, 
which  is  a  remarkable  reproduction  of  the  spirit 
of  the  race-sagas,  but  which  rarely  makes  literal 
use  of  them. 

In  these  race-sagas,  with  their  wild  scenes  and 
passions,  he  found  just  what  he  needed  for  the 
"  human  investiture  of  the  moods,  the  images, 
and  the  thoughts  then  occupying  his  mind,  or 
more  or  less  distinctly  hovering  about  it."  The 

9 


128  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

poet  whose  first  work  foreshadowed  the  great 
tragic  "  contradiction  between  craving  and  gift, 
between  will  and  possibility,"  must  have  found 
a  singular  attraction  in  such  firmly  moulded  and 
distinct  personalities  as  are  represented  by  Oern- 
tilf  and  Sigurd.  And  the  poet  whose  early  activ- 
ity had  produced  a  sketch  like  that  of  Furia,  must 
have  recognized  his  own  fancies  in  the  wild  and 
passionate  women  in  whose  likeness  Hjordis  was 
chiselled.  The  first  effort  of  his  youth  is  firmly 
linked  with  the  first  work  of  his  ripened  manhood. 
"  The  Chieftains  of  Helgoland  "  was  as  epoch- 
making  a  work  in  Norwegian  dramatic  poetry  as 
was  "  Synnove  Solbakken  "  in  narrative  literature. 
It  made  a  closer  approach  to  Norse  antiquity  than 
any  previous  work  had  succeeded  in  making. 
From  Evald's  "  Balder's  Death  "  to  Oehlenschlae- 
ger's  "  Haakon  Jarl  "  a  great  step  was  taken  in 
the  direction  of  a  just  conception  and  presentation 
of  the  old  Norseman,  but  the  step  from  Oehlen- 
schlaeger  to  Ibsen  was  still  greater.  No  wonder 
that  to  the  generation  which  viewed  ancient  Nor- 
way with  Oehlenschlaeger's  eyes  the  piece  seemed 
crude,  and  the  effort  to  bring  a  dramatic  work  into 
so  close  a  relation  with  the  sagas  seemed  mistaken. 
"  The  rude  and  savage  life  which  they  depict," 
wrote  J.  L.  Heiberg,  in  his  censure  of  Ibsen's  work, 
"  is  tempered,  in  the  original  form,  by  its  epic 


LIFE  IN  CHRISTIANIA.  129 

presentation,  but  from  the  moment  when  this  life 
is  dramatized,  nothing  is  left  but  the  material  itself 
in  all  its  crudity."  The  author  has  used  this  ma- 
terial "  in  so  objective  a  manner,  that  it  is  made 
for  us  a  stumbling-block,  since  everything  that  is 
harsh  in  the  epic  becomes  yet  harsher  in  the 
drama."  "  A  Norwegian  stage  will  hardly  be 
created  in  the  laboratory  where  these  experiments 
are  performed."  In  consequence  of  this  censure, 
the  play  was  rejected  by  the  royal  theatre  of  Copen- 
hagen, and  fared  no  better  in  Christiania.  The 
battle  for  a  national  theatre  was  being  hotly  waged 
in  the  capital.  The  Christiania  theatre  was  still 
Danish ;  its  personnel  was  almost  exclusively 
Danish,  and  a  Dane  (Borgaard)  had  its  artistic 
management.  A  large  portion  of  the  public,  es- 
pecially of  the  older  generation,  found  this  entirely 
proper,  and  so  the  Danish  artists  were  admired, 
and  every  attempt  to  create  a  Norwegian  dramatic 
art  was  looked  upon  with  suspicion  and  scorn. 

Opposed  to  this  theatre  and  its  following  were 
all  those  who  contended  that  Norway's  stage  must 
be  Norwegian,  if  it  were  to  do  its  proper  work  in 
the  cultivation  of  the  people.  A  few  of  these  men 
had,  in  1852,  established  a  sort  of  dramatic  school 
for  the  purpose  of  educating  Norwegian  actors. 
The  school  soon  became  a  theatre,  —  "  The  Nor- 
wegian Theatre,"  —  and  between  the  two  theatres 


130  HENR1K  IBSEN. 

there  was  about  a  decade  of  hot  rivalry,  both  press 
and  public  taking  sides.  As  director  of  the  Nor- 
wegian theatre,  Ibsen  occupied  an  outpost  in  this 
struggle,  and  cast  himself  heart  and  soul  into  the 
fray. 

The  year  before  Ibsen's  return  to  Christiania 
there  had  been  a  great  battle  about  the  nationality 
of  the  theatre.  Bjornson  and  all  the  national  party 
demanded  that  henceforth  the  Christiania  theatre 
should  not  be  recruited  from  Denmark.  This  de- 
mand not  being  complied  with,  a  hissing  concert 
was  organized  for  the  reception  of  a  new  Danish 
actor,  and  this  demonstration  resulted  in  the  en- 
gagement of  a  number  of  Norwegian  actors;  but 
the  Danish  director  continued  to  treat  Norwegian 
matters  in  a  very  stepmotherly  fashion,  and  he 
was  especially  reproached  for  his  neglect  of  Nor- 
wegian literature.  After  the  hissing  concert  there 
had  been  a  cessation  of  hostilities,  which  lasted 
until  Henrik  Ibsen  offered  "  The  Chieftains "  to 
the  Christiania  theatre  in  1857,  his  own  theatre 
not  being  well  enough  equipped  to  produce  it. 
At  first,  Borgaard  said  that  it  should  be  produced 
in  the  course  of  the  season,  but  after  half  a  year 
had  passed  the  author  was  informed  that  "  the 
financial  condition  of  the  theatre  did  not  permit 
the  payment  of  an  honorarium  for  original  works." 
Since,  but  a  short  time  before,  the  financial  condi- 


HENRIK    IBSEN. 
(At  the  close  of  the  fifties 


LIFE  IN  CHRISTIANIA.  131 

tion  of  the  theatre  had  permitted  a  considerable 
augmentation  of  the  salaries  of  a  number  of  the 
Danish  actors,  and  since  nothing  was  said  in  the 
notification  of  a  production  the  following  season, 
this  conduct  was  held  by  many  to  be  a  declaration 
of  war  upon  the  national  dramatic  literature.  So 
Ibsen  published  in  "  Aftenbladet "  a  hot  attack 
upon  the  management  of  the  theatre.  This  led  to 
a  violent  controversy,  in  which  Ibsen  was  abused 
in  the  roughest  manner  by  the  other  party,  while 
Bjornson  and  Botten-Hansen  took  his  part.  Noth- 
ing was  then  left  him  but  to  publish  "  The  Chief- 
tains" in  book  form,  and  at  the  same  time  to 
produce  it  at  the  Norwegian  theatre.  It  was  not 
until  1861  that  it  was  added  to  the  repertoire  of 
the  Christiania  theatre,  of  which  it  has  since  been 
one  of  the  ornaments. 

How  deeply  Ibsen  at  that  time  felt  himself  in 
sympathy  with  the  national  movement  appears 
most  clearly  from  the  fact  that  he  conceived  the 
idea  of  an  association  for  the  purpose  of  resisting 
foreign  influence  and  asserting  the  national  princi- 
ple in  art.  Just  think  of  Henrik  Ibsen  as  the 
founder  of  an  association ! 

The  idea  was  canvassed  in  the  office  of  "  Aften- 
bladet "  by  Ibsen  and  two  of  the  editors  of  that 
sheet,  Richter,  now  (1888)  minister  of  state,  and 
Bjornson.  As  a  result,  Bjornson  and  Ibsen  issued 


132  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

invitations  to  join  in  such  an  association.  It  was 
organized  Nov.  22,  1859,  under  the  name  of  "  The 
Norwegian  Society."  Bjornson  was  made  presi- 
dent, and  Ibsen  vice-president.  Opposition  to  the 
Diisseldorf  school  of  painting  was  one  of  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  society,  which  was  a  little  unfortu- 
nate, because  it  prevented  a  number  of  people  from 
joining.  The  only  thing  meant  by  this  was  an  ex- 
pression of  opposition  to  the  excess  of  foreign 
influence  in  the  domain  of  plastic  art.  The  princi- 
pal aim  of  the  society  was  to  combat  Danish  dra- 
matic art  in  Norway,  and,  largely  in  consequence  of 
its  activity,  Wilhelm  Wiehe,  the  chief  Danish  actor 
in  Christiania,  withdrew  from  the  Norwegian  stage 
shortly  after.  This  led  to  doleful  lamentations  in 
prose  and  verse  in  the  public  press  on  the  part  of 
the  Danish-minded.  A.  Munch  shrieked :  - 

"  What  ?   Is  it  possible  the  hour's  cry, 
Empty  of  all  but  savage  Berserk  rage, 
Has  driven  such  an  actor  from  the  stage  ? 
Surely,  the  public  sympathy  is  his, 
And  every  thought  that  sane  and  worthy  is  !  " 

And  H.  O.  Blom,  in  a  rhymed  epistle  to  Wiehe, 
suggested  that  the  Day  of  Judgment  was  at  hand 
for  the  theatre ;  all  of  which  impelled  Ibsen  to  take 
the  field  with  his  bold  and  witty  "  Open  Letter  to 
the  Poet  H.  O.  Blom."  After  a  few  years  the 
national  party  came  out  victorious ;  most  of  the 
Danish  actors  withdrew,  Borgaard  was  dismissed, 


LIFE  IN  CHRISTIANIA.  133 

and  the  Norwegian  theatre  became  united  with 
the  Christiania  theatre. 

Otherwise  "The  Norwegian  Society :;  did  not 
play  any  important  part.  In  1860  it  appointed  a 
committee,  with  Ibsen  as  one  of  the  members,  for 
the  purpose  of  bringing  together  the  best  artists 
from  Bergen  and  the  two  theatres  of  the  capital  in 
a  series  of  Norwegian  festival  performances  in 
Christiania;  but  the  direction  of  the  Christiania 
theatre  having  declined  to  give  its  stage  for  this 
purpose,  the  plan  came  to  nothing,  and  "  The 
Norwegian  Society"  missed  the  honor  of  carrying 
it  through.  Later  many  members  of  the  Stor- 
thing joined  the  association,  which  resulted  in  its 
transformation  into  a  sort  of  political  society ; 
Ibsen  then  gradually  withdrew,  and  the  society 
soon  collapsed. 

In  another  circle,  less  pronounced  in  its  opposi- 
tional  tendencies,  he  continued  to  move.  This  was 
a  little  gathering  of  men  engaged  or  interested  in  lit- 
erary pursuits,  which  Botten-Hansen  collected  about 
him.  They  met  at  times  in  Botten-Hansen's  book- 
lined  rooms,  at  times  in  a  little  Swiss -cafe",  known  as 
L'Orsa's  Cafe,  where  a  small  and  modest  room  was 
appropriated  by  the  gathering.  Although  the  time 
was  fruitful  in  political  controversy,  men  of  the 
most  diverse  views  met  thus  together,  attracted  by 
Botten-Hansen's  philanthropic  and  lovable  person- 


134  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

ality.  A.  O.  Vinje,  Ernst  Sars,  Christian  Friele, 
L.  L.  Daae,  and  others,  thus  met  peaceably  upon 
neutral  ground.  Asbjornsen's  humor  made  at 
times  a  pleasant  diversion  in  the  serious  literary 
conversations,  and  even  Welhaven  put  in  an  ap- 
pearance now  and  then.  When  he  and  Vinje 
began  upon  one  of  their  audacious  and  witty  word- 
tournaments,  there  was  life  and  laughter  enough  in 
the  camp.  Ibsen  was  one  of  the  most  frequent 
visitors  to  these  gatherings,  and  a  large  share  of 
the  time  left  him  from  his  theatrical  labors  was 
spent  at  Botten-Hansen's  or  in  the  little  back  room 
of  L'Orsa's  Cafe. 

These  years  were  not  rich  in  literary  production, 
but  he  wrote  a  series  of  poems,  among  which 
"  Terje  Vigen  "  and  "  On  the  Mountain  Plains," 
both  dated  1860,  are  the  most  important.  The 
latter  of  these  poems  shows  distinctly  enough  in 
what  a  state  of  commotion  he  was,  and  that  some- 
thing new  was  seeking  for  expression  in  his  poetry, 
without  his  quite  knowing  what  it  was  or  what  it 
signified. 

It  goes  almost  without  saying  that  he  was  at  this 
time  planning  to  break  new  paths  for  the  drama. 
In  the  summer  of  1858  he  had  already  begun  to 
make  studies  for  "  The  Pretenders,"  but  the  plan 
of  this  work  was  for  a  time  set  aside,  and  another 
gradually  absorbed  his  attention.  Not  from  an- 


LIFE  IN  CHRISTIANIA.  135 

cient  times,  but  from  his  own,  would  he  take  his 
material;  it  was  not  a  historical  tragedy,  but  a 
modern  comedy,  that  he  would  write.  The  satirist 
was  growing  in  him,  and  "  Love's  Comedy"  shaped 
itself  at  the  expense  of  the  newly  planned  historical 
tragedy. 

But  formal  difficulties  stood  in  the  way  of  the 
execution  of  this  plan.  A  modern  comedy  must 
obviously  be  written  in  prose,  and  its  characters 
must  speak  in  the  manner  of  cultivated  men  and 
women  of  the  period.  The  scheme  was  outlined 
and  the  work  begun,  but  the  further  he  progressed 
with  it,  the  less  he  was  satisfied.  He  had  so  long 
held  intercourse  with  the  style  of  the  saga  and 
with  the  expressions  and  phrases  of  the  romantic 
Middle  Ages  that  it  was,  in  the  beginning,  neither 
easy  nor  natural  for  him  to  write  in  the  ordinary 
language  of  conversation.  It  seemed  stiffer  than 
it  ought  to  be,  and  he  came  to  feel  that  his  dia- 
logue, was  not  sufficiently  impressive.  So  prose 
was  abandoned,  and  the  piece  translated  —  some- 
times line  for  line,  and  at  others  with  greater  free- 
dom —  into  the  familiar  rhymed  iambics  which 
have  been  so  justly  admired  for  their  wit  and  liveli- 
ness. "  The  Young  Men's  Union  "  was  the  first 
play  in  which  Ibsen  successfully  imparted  these 
characteristic  to  dialogue  in  modern  prose. 

The  scene  ot    "  Love's    Comedy "  is  laid,  as  is 


136  HENRIK  IBSEM 

well  known,  in  a  villa  at  Drammensvejen,  and  the 
characters  are  every-day  men,  women,  students, 
clerks,  and  merchants.  The  author  had  even  the 
unparalleled  audacity  to  introduce  the  clergy  upon 
the  stage,  and  to  ridicule  it  in  the  person  of  Pastor 
Straamand.  As  a  piece  of  contemporary  satire  it 
is  a  courageous  work,  fresh  in  its  humor  and  bold 
in  its  outcome. 

"  There  is  something  in  the  inspiration  of 
'  Love's  Comedy '  that  takes  us  back  to  Fru  Col- 
lett's  '  The  Magistrate's  Daughters,' "  observes 
Georg  Brandes,  in  his  well-known  characteriza- 
tion of  Henrik  Ibsen ;  that  book  "  waged  quite  as 
wittily,  although  less  formally,  the  warfare  against 
betrothal  and  marriage  which  is  carried  on  in 
Ibsen's  book  with  a  firm  and  virile  hand."  These 
two  works  have  undeniably  in  common  the  attack 
upon  betrothal  and  marriage,  but  the  standpoint 
from  which  the  attack  is  made  is  very  different. 

It  is  the  manage  de  convcnance  that  is  attacked 
in  Fru  Collett's  novel.  No  marriage  can  result  in 
happiness  unless  based  on  mutual  affection,  and  in 
such  a  matter  the  feeling  of  the  woman  must 
count  for  much  more  than  in  other  matters. 
These  two  theses  may  be  regarded  as  the  poles 
about  which  the  book  revolves. 

Ibsen,  on  the  contrary,  does  not  attack  the 
mariage  dc  convenance ;  he  even  makes  one  of 


HENRIK   IBSEN. 
(At  the  beginning  of  the  sixties.) 


LIFE  IN  CHRISTIANIA.  137 

the  most  sympathetic  characters  in  the  play,  the 
merchant  Guldstad,  speak  vigorously  in  its  defence, 
and  the  importance  which  Ibsen  himself  attaches 
to  this  defence  appears  in  its  influence  upon  the 
outcome  of  the  action.  For  it  is  Guldstad's  de- 
fence of  the  rational  marriage,  as  opposed  to  the 
marriage  of  inclination,  that  brings  about  the 
separation  of  Falk  and  Svanhild. 

The  very  thing  against  which  the  satire  of  the 
piece  is  directed  from  beginning  to  end  is  the  sort 
of  union  entered  into  through  affection.  The  real 
theme  of  the  play  is  the  manner  in  which  love 
is  quenched  by  such  unions.  From  the  moment 
that  love  becomes  official  its  doom  is  sealed.  •  First 
of  all  come  the  aunts  and  female  friends  and  "  slay 
love's  poesy"  by  their  officious  interest  in  the 
betrothed  pair;  then  follows  marriage  with  its 
struggle  for  subsistence  and  its  imbecile  baby-talk. 
That  which  began  as  a  festival  ends  by  becoming 
merely  trivial,  and  most  men,  so  far  from  being 
elevated  by  thus  living  in  common  with  their 
wives,  fall  into  a  dull  and  soulless  life  of  routine. 

"  Profit  by  your  experience,  look  around, 
See  how  each  pair  of  lovers  act  and  speak 
As  if  their  wealth  were  wholly  without  bound. 
First  reckless  to  the  altar  rush  this  pair ; 
Then  to  their  new  and  happy  home  return, 
And  for  a  time  their  life  seems  bright  and  fair. 
Now  comes  the  day  of  reckoning,  and  there  ! 
Behold  how  bankrupt  is  the  whole,  concern  ! 


138  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

Bankrupt  the  bloom  of  youth  upon  her  face, 
Bankrupt  the  flower  of  thought  within  her  soul, 
Bankrupt  the  glow  that  promised  life  to  grace, 
His  courage  bankrupt  now  beyond  control. 
Bankruptcy  over  the  whole  household  hovers  ; 
And  yet  this  pair  set  bravely  out  together, 
And  seemed  to  be  a  first-class  firm  of  lovers  I  " 

Thus  it  was  with  Straamand  and  his  Maren,  with 
Styver  and  Froken  Skjaere,  and  thus  it  is  with 
Lind  and  Anna.  These  are  the  "  matches  of  in- 
clination," and  they  all  end  in  triviality  because 
love  is  not  strong  enough  to  endure. 

"  The  flame  is  spent !  barely  the  smoke  remains ! 
Sic  transit  gloria  amoris,  maiden  ! " 

It  is  with  love  as  with  religion ;  as  it  becomes 
official  it  loses  in  force.  The  men  of  our  age  are 
too  insignificant  to  be  capable  of  loving,  and  yet 
they  go  about  and  fancy  that  they  are  capable, 
and  this  is  the  tragi-comedy  of  the  situation. 

"  See  Lind  and  Styver,  the  parson  and  his  wife 
As  love's  Yule-goats  r  they  masquerade  about, 
Faith  on  their  lips  and  falsehood  in  their  soul, 
Yet  thought  quite  worthy  people  on  the  whole  I 
With  lies  to  one  another  they  're  replying, 
Yet  no  one  dare  reproach  them  for  their  lying." 

Falk  and  Svanhild  present  a  contrast  to  this 
apathetic  feeling,  which  both  recognize  and  de- 

i  "  Julebukke  "  here  translated  "  Yule-goats "  refers  to  the 
Norwegian  custom  of  masquerading  at  Christmas  time  disguised 
with  the  horns  and  skins  of  goats  and  other  animals.  —  TR. 


LIFE  IN  CHRISTIANIA.  139 

plore,  but  they  are  too  wholly  children  of  their 
age  to  feel  sure  that  their  love  will  overcome  the 
triviality  of  life.  They  feel,  as  Svanhild  puts  it, 
that 

"  From  this  day 

Our  festal  march  must  take  the  downward  way; 
And  when  the  day  of  reckoning  is  at  hand, 
And  we  before  the  Mighty  Judge  shall  stand, 
Then  will  he  ask  of  us,  the  Righteous  One, 
What  with  the  treasure  lent  us  we  have  done. 
And  in  our  answer,  Falk,  what  grace  to  save  ; 
'  We  lost  it  on  our  journey  to  the  grave.'" 

No,  if  their  love  is  to  endure,  and  to  preserve 
its  elevating  power,  it  must  be  transformed  into 
a  memory;  it  must  be  freed  from  the  outward 
forms  of  daily  life  and  converted  into  an  inner  and 
purely  spiritual  possession.  So  Falk  and  Svanhild 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  Ibsen  had  expressed 
more  than  ten  years  previously  in  his  youthful 
poems,  and  Falk,  like  Ibsen,  asserts  the  ennobling 
influence  of  the  memory  of  a  past  love,  when  he 
says : — 

"  E'en  as  the  grave  leads  to  a  better  light, 
So  love  to  life  may  consecrated  be 
Only  when,  freed  from  passion,  it  takes  flight 
Into  the  spirit-realm  of  memory." 

In  full  accord  with  his  characteristic  view  the 
author  makes  his  principal  characters  part  just 
when  they  have  found  one  another.  The  catas- 
trophe of  the  piece,  which  will  always  seem  pain- 


140  HENRI K  IBSEN. 

ful  in  the  ordinary  view,  was   for  Ibsen  its  one 
adornment  and  poetical  solution. 

The  originality  of  "  Love's  Comedy  "  rests  then 
upon  the  author's  peculiar  and  ideally  impressed 
nature.  In  the  name  of  the  ideal  he  weighed  and 
found  love  wanting  in  the  imperfect  form  in  which 
it  appears  in  actual  life.  He  scourged  love  in  the 
name  of  love  itself;  and,  although  he  was  not  blind 
to  the  beauty  of  home  and  family  life,  —  this  ap- 
pears clearly  enough  from  the  words  of  Straamand 
and  Styver  in  the  third  act,  —  his  logical  mind 
could  admit  no  compromise.  He  inexorably 
maintained  that  one  thing  or  the  other  must  be 
chosen.  He  was  so  used  to  contemplation  of  the 
pure  light  of  the  ideal  that  he  could  not  be  satis- 
fied with  the  broken  rays  of  the  real. 

"  Love's  Comedy "  was  completed  in  the  sum- 
mer of  1862,  and  appeared  the  following  winter  as 
a  New  Year's  gift  to  the  readers  of  the  "  Illustrated 
News." 

The  next  year  a  new  work  of  Ibsen  was  ready ; 
it  was  the  for  some  time  contemplated  "  Preten- 
ders." When,  in  the  summer  of  1863,  he  began 
upon  this  work,  he  was  hampered  by  no  uncer- 
tainty or  hesitation.  The  work  was  written  at  a 
spurt,  and  so  easily  did  the  material  take  shape 
that  six  weeks  sufficed  for  its  completion.  This 
statement,  made  by  a  previous  biographer,  seems 


LIFE  IN  CHRISTIAN/A.  141 

almost  incredible ;  but  Ibsen  has  given  the  au- 
thor of  the  present  work  a  confirmation  of  the 
fact. 

The  construction  of  "  The  Pretenders  "  is  not  a 
little  unlike  that  of  its  immediate  predecessors.  In 
those  the  action  was  confined  within  the  briefest 
possible  period,  and  there  were  few  changes  of 
scene ;  unity  of  place  was  almost  entirely  re- 
spected. In  "  The  Pretenders,"  on  the  contrary, 
Ibsen  has  been  less  rigorous  in  these  respects; 
several  years  elapse  between  the  beginning  and 
the  end  of  the  piece,  and  there  are  numerous 
changes  of  scene,  —  two  to  an  act,  upon  the 
average. 

But  if  he  have  taken  greater  technical  liberties 
than  before,  he  has,  on  the  other  hand,  confined 
himself  more  closely  to  the  historical  record.  We 
find  in  the  history  of  the  period  treated  the  most 
important  of  the  events  described ;  and  the  main 
traits  of  character  of  the  leading  figures  are  also 
recognizable,  although  Ibsen  has  genially  deepened 
the  given  facts. 

Ernst  Sars,  in  drawing  the  distinction  between 
the  followers  of  Haakon  and  of  Skule,  makes  use 
of  expressions  which  may,  with  slight  modifica- 
tions,  be  applied  to  the  two  parties  in  the  play. 
He  says :  "  We  meet  everywhere  in  this  story 
the  same  strength  and  certainty  on  the  one  side, 


142  HENKIK  IBSEN. 

and  the  same  palsy  and  lack  of  confidence  on  the 
other.  The  old  Birkebejner  appear  to  us  frank 
and  straightforward,  like  men  having  an  unfalter- 
ing conviction  of  the  justice  of  their  cause,  and  an 
inextinguishable  confidence  in  its  final  victory. 
Skule's  followers,  on  the  other  hand,  are  given  to 
intrigue  and  chicanery,  seeking  to  set  all  sorts  of 
hindrances  in  the  way  of  their  enthusiastic  oppo- 
nents. They  do  not  come  squarely  out  with  their 
aims;  and  their  aims  are  so  at  variance  with  actual 
conditions  that  their  appearance  is  characterized 
by  vagueness  and  irresolution." 

The  reason  for  this  contrast  appears  clearly  in 
history.  Haakon  represented  the  carrying  out  of 
Sverre's  kingly  plans  ;  he  had  been  reared  in  the 
unfaltering  conviction  of  his  right  to  rule  over  the 
country ;  he  grew  to  manhood  among  the  veterans 
of  Sverre's  age,  who  were  imbued  with  his  princi- 
ples, and  from  whom  he  accepted  those  principles 
as  a  complete  system,  and  for  him  the  main  ques- 
tion of  the  age  was  how  to  put  them  into  effect. 
His  standpoint  was  definite  and  uncomplicated 
from  the  first,  and  it  influenced  his  whole  person- 
ality. What  above  all  else  made  him  strong  was 
the  tranquil  and  equable  disposition  by  which  he 
was  distinguished,  and  which  had  its  root  in  the 
unfailing  belief  that  justice  and  the  popular  voice 
were  with  him. 


LIFE  IN  CHRISTIAATIA.  143 

With  Skule  it  was  wholly  otherwise.  He  repre- 
sented the  aristocratic  and  hierarchial  principle  at 
strife  with  the  new  kingdom ;  but  this  battle  had 
really  been  fought  out,  and  the  royal  power  estab- 
lished, so  that  Skule's  effort  to  renew  the  strife  was 
but  a  last  convulsive  struggle  of  the  already  de- 
feated cause.  Finally,  the  aristocrats  whom  Skule 
represented  formed  a  party  with  him,  but  it  had 
already  suffered  many  defeats,  and  can  have  been 
neither  numerous  nor  confident.  This  appeared 
distinctly  when  Skule  made  open  rebellion  against 
Haakon.  "  In  spite  of  the  good  fortune  which 
seemed  to  attend  him  at  the  start,  it  was  clear 
enough  at  the  outset  that  this  attempt  to  renew 
warfare  upon  the  Norwegian  throne  was  the  act  of 
a  desperate  gamester,  who  does  not  count  the 
chances,  but  rushes  blindly  in,  hoping  that  luck 
will  favor  him."  The  higher  clergy  were  no  longer 
united  ;  and  those  whom  he  might  count  his  friends 
did  not  dare  to  join  with  him ;  he  had  supporters 
among  the  aristocracy,  but  the  time  was  past  in 
which  an  aristocratic  party  like  that  of  Erling 
Skakke  could  be  formed.  He  could  not  even  build 
upon  the  old  enmity  of  the  North  and  the  South ; 
formerly  this  had  been  a  "  rich  wellspring  of  civil 
warfare,"  but  now  "  it  seems  to  have  been  nearly 
dried  up."  Thus  "  Skule's  attempt  had  no  support 

either  from  public  sentiment  or  the  ruling  interests 

10 


144  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

of  the  land,  and  a  single  defeat  sufficed  to  over- 
throw him." 

As  we  see,  there  is  a  close  correspondence  be- 
tween the  historical  relation  of  Haakon  and  Skule 
as  depicted  by  poet  and  historian. 

Psychologically,  Ibsen  has  given  the  two  op- 
posed leaders  a  profounder  significance  than  they 
appear  to  have  had  in  history. 

Haakon  does  not' seem  to  have  been  a  genially 
disposed  character,  and  when  Ibsen  nevertheless 
represents  him  as  such,  and  bestows  upon  him 
kingly  thoughts,  it  is  doubtless  because  he  felt 
peculiarly  attracted  by  his  personality. 

If  we  except  "  St.  John's  Night,"  "  The  Feast 
at  Solhaug,"  and  "  Olaf  Liljekrans,"  the  calling  of 
his  chief  characters  plays  an  important  part  in 
all  the  plays  which  Ibsen  at  this  time  had  writ- 
ten. Catiline's  call  was  to  save  Rome,  Fru  Inger's 
to  save  Norway;  Hjordis  felt  called  to  be  an 
Amazon,  Falk  to  be  a  poet.  One's  calling  ap- 
peared to  Ibsen  in  a  mystic,  poetical  light,  and 
so  a  figure  like  that  of  Haakon,  whose  belief 
in  his  right  and  whose  confidence  in  his  endow- 
ment were  so  marked,  stood  for  him  in  a  peculiarly 
poetic  gleam.  Ernst  Sars  is  of  the  opinion  that 
Haakon  "  is  not  to  be  compared  for  power  or 
poetic  splendor  with  the  more  conspicuous  of  his 
predecessors."  Ibsen  holds  the  contrary  opinion  ; 


LIFE  IN  CHRISTIANIA.  145 

Haakon's  greatness  is  found  in  the  harmony  exist- 
ing between  the  task  he  has  set  himself  and  the 
situation  in  which  he  is  placed.  It  is  found  in 
the  unfathomable,  the  mystical,  his  great  and  se- 
cret calling,  his  league  with  "  the  mighty  above," 
that  prepares  the  way  for  the  chosen,  and  permits 
him  to  march  forward  to  his  aim  as  surely  and 
almost  as  unconsciously  as  the  somnambulist. 

But  contrasted  with  this  mysterious  and  Alad- 
din-like certainty  stands  the  man  of  doubt  and 
deliberation ;  he  who  is  never  sure  of  himself; 
he  who  dare  not  choose  the  one  because  he 
may  never  lose  sight  of  the  other  that  might 
also  be  chosen ;  he  who  is  God's  step-child  upon 
earth,  because  he  is  without  that  inspiration  from 
above  which  Bishop  Nikolas  calls  ingenium.  He 
is  richly  equipped ;  he  is  noble  and  high-minded ; 
nothing  is  lacking  him  save  the  one  thing  in  which 
the  greatness  of  the  other  consists,  for  in  place 
of  this  he  has  the  gnawing  gift  of  doubt.  In  de- 
picting this  personality,  Ibsen  attained  to  greater 
heights  and  depths  than  ever  before,  and  more 
than  this,  the  character  is  one  of  the  most  deeply 
felt  and  skilfully  drawn  in  the  entire  Ibsen  gallery. 

Georg  Brandes  has  adduced,  with  much  acute- 
ness,  a  little  exchange  of  speech  between  Skule 
and  Jatgeir  the  Skald,  for  the  purpose  of  illus- 
trating Ibsen's  relation  to  his  hero. 


146  HENRI K  IBSEN. 

KING  SKULE. 
To  be  a  king  what  gift  is  needful  for  me  ? 

JATGEIR. 
Not  that  of  doubt;  thou  wouldst  not  question  thus. 

KING  SKULE. 
What  gift  is  needful  ? 

JATGEIR. 

Lord,  thou  art  a  king. 

KING  SKULE. 
Art  then  at  all  times  sure  thou  art  a  poet  ? 

This  last  reply  might  serve  as  a  motto  for  the 
whole  piece.  "  How  much  is  told  in  this  reply," 
Brandes  remarks.  "  How  the  relation  is  reversed, 
and  the  thing  transformed  into  the  picture  of  that 
which  should  itself  be  the  picture  of  the  thing ! 
How  painful  a  confession  in  that  last  line :  '  Art 
then  at  all  times  sure  thou  art  a  poet?'' 

Nothing  is  more  certain  than  that,  when  Ibsen 
became  the  poet  of  doubt  in  "  The  Pretenders," 
it  was  because  he  had  himself  felt  the  worm  gnaw- 
ing at  his  heart.  In  the  earliest  of  his  youthful 
poems  doubt  found  words,  and  we  have  discerned 
it  later,  lurking  behind  the  deliberations  that  pre- 
ceded the  composition  of  certain  of  his  works. 
To  what  an  extent  he  was  tortured  by  doubts 
of  his  own  poetic  gift  appears  further  from  a 
cycle  of  poems,  published  in  "  The  Illustrated 


LIFE  IN  CHRISTIANIA.  147 

News"  of  1859,  under  the  title  "In  the  Picture 
Gallery."  The  editor  says  in  a  note  that  these 
poems  date  from  "  an  earlier  period  of  his  life 
and  development ;  "  they  are  probably  to  be  re- 
ferred to  the  close  of  his  stay  at  Bergen.  This 
cycle  is  based  upon  an  impression  derived  from 
the  Dresden  gallery,  and  the  sight  of  a  woman 
who  was  sitting  and  copying  Murillo's  Madonna. 
It  is  the  impression  which  later  gave  rise  to  the 
little  poem  "  In  the  Gallery,"  which  has  found 
a  place  in  his  collected  poems.  He  has  placed 
on  her  lips  a  series  of  poems  in  which  she  bewails 
her  vanished  dreams  of  art,  and  upon  this  col- 
lection the  poet  has  placed  a  crown  of  sonnets, 
which  give  utterance  in  his  own  name  to  the 
same  plaint. 

"  Even  as  the  artist  in  the  pictured  hall, 

I  have  had  visions  fair,  too  fair  to  stay; 

And  on  the  wings  of  poesy  away 
Have  sought  to  fly  above  this  earthly  ball,  — 
To  fly,  alas,  and  afterwards  to  fall, 

Their  early  strength  gone  from  my  wings  for  aye. 

The  fable-book  of  youth  is  shut  to-day, 
And  now  I  see  the  moral  of  It  all." 

But  what   is   the    use   of  complaining  of  one's 
impotence?  — 

"  What  is  more  laughable  than  to  repine 
In  elegies  upon  one's  lyric  dearth,  — 
To  scribble  poems,  dead  at  their  very  birth, 
And  of  a  gloomy,  broken  heart  to  whine  ?  " 


148  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

A  hateful  spirit  visits  him  now  and  then  in  evil 
hours,  and  whispers  words  of  doubt  and  despond- 
ency in  his  ear. 

"  When  speaks  that  voice  to  me  with  bated  breath, 
I  seem  to  hear  the  peal  of  funeral  chimes, 
I  seem  to  feel  the  clammy  kiss  of  death  ;  " 

but  the  apparition  no  longer  terrifies  him.  He  is 
no  longer  a  child ;  he  understands  now  what  it  all 
means.  The  spirit  hovers  about  the  "  last  flower  " 
remaining,  rank  and  uncared  for,  from  his  spring- 
time. 

"  My  anxious  thoughts  assume  this  flower  shape  ; 
They  make  me  tremble  between  hope  and  fear ; 
From  faith  to  doubt  my  mind  is  made  to  veer. 

"  They  twine  as  lovingly  about  my  soul 
As  cling  the  tendrils  of  the  living  grape 
In  Southern  vineyards  to  the  rootless  pole." 

So  great  was  at  times  Ibsen's  lack  of  confidence 
in  himself  that  he  felt  the  need  of  employing  words 
as  passionate  as  these ;  so  depressed  did  he  feel, 
when  the  courage  of  life  and  faith  in  his  poetic  gifts 
were  at  their  ebb,  that  he  could  find  the  adequate 
expression  of  his  mood  only  in  such  despond- 
ent and  despairing  phrases.  When  we  read  these 
poems  we  begin  to  appreciate  the  reason  of  the 
wonderful  delicacy  and  comprehension  displayed 
in  the  portrayal  of  Skule's  sceptical  nature. 

But  when  "  The  Pretenders  "  was  written,  this 
stage  of  spiritual  conflict  was  passed.  Like  the 


LIFE  IN  CHRISTIANIA.  149 

young  poet  in  "  Love's  Comedy,"  Ibsen  required, 
like  the  falcon,  the  aid  of  adverse  winds  to  gain 
the  heights.  His  was  one  of  those  natures  which 
are  not  subdued  but  rise  under  adverse  conditions. 
As  the  bitter  quinine  gives -strength  to  the  nerves, 
so  the  bitterness  of  his  circumstances  strengthened, 
little  by  little,  his  confidence  in  himself. 

Many  pleasant  things  may  undoubtedly  be  said 
of  the  Norwegian  capital,  but  no  one  would  think 
of  calling  it  a  town  in  which  literature  and  art 
flourish.  From  its  condition,  at  the  beginning  of 
the  century,  as  a  town  of  10,000  inhabitants,  it  has 
grown  up  to  be  a  city  with  truly  American  ra- 
pidity, and  has  not  only  reached  its  first  hundred 
thousand  of  population,  but  has  got  well  along 
into  the  second.  Christiania  may  even  be  called 
an  overgrown  city,  and  it  is  a  familiar  fact  that  too 
rapid  growth  does  not  tend  to  attractiveness. 

Christiania  is  a  new  colony  with  pretensions  to 
be  considered  a  centre  of  culture.  It  has  grown 
so  fast  that  it  struts  about  and  claims  to  be  a 
piece  of  Europe.  Yet  it  is  in  reality  so  small  that 
its  inhabitants  lack  elbow-room;  they  push  and 
thrust  one  another,  and  tread  on  one  another's 
toes,  because  they  have  not  room  to  keep  out  of 
each  other's  way.  Gossip  and  personal  criticism 
are  incredibly  rife ;  if  a  tenant  of  the  barnyard 
lose  a  feather,  the  loss  is  magnified,  by  the  help 


I  50  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

of  friends  and  acquaintances,  into  that  of  half  a 
dozen  hens.  And  the  people  are  as  unready  to 
recognize  merit  as  they  are  ready  to  detract.  In 
larger  societies,  where  men  are  not  so  cramped 
for  lack  of  space,  there  is  more  good-will,  and 
the  recognition  of  one  does  not  preclude  the 
recognition  of  another.  But  here  there  is  a  nar- 
rowness of  view  which  seems  to  be  based  upon 
the  proverb,  — "  There  is  not  room  for  two  great 
ones  in  a  bag." 

If  one  endeavor  to  rise,  it  must  be  at  the  expense 
of  the  others.  And  men  are  as  dependent  in  their 
judgments  as  they  are  dogmatic.  They  always 
wait  for  the  outsider  to  speak.  The  author,  for 
example,  who  will  conquer  Christiania,  must  first 
conquer  Copenhagen,  even  at  the  present  day. 

Artistic  and  literary  productivity  is  naturally 
hampered  by  this  state  of  affairs.  Many  become 
weary,  and  end  by  conforming  to  the  general 
indifference  and  lack  of  interest  everywhere  about 
them.  They  lose  courage  and  energy,  and  bid 
farewell  to  their  ambitions.  Others  are  made 
bitter  and  discontented,  and  thus  express  them- 
selves. If  one  were  to  collect  all  the  complaints 
made  against  Christiania  in  the  literature  of  the 
present  century,  a  fine  anthology  would  be  the 
result. 

No  Norwegian  poet  has  sung  in  praise  of  Chris- 


LIFE  IN  CHRISTIANIA.  151 

tiania.  Wergeland  is  the  only  one  who  might  be 
mentioned,  and  he,  characteristically  enough,  con- 
fined himself  to  expressions  of  satisfaction  at  the 
growth  of  the  city.  Later  on,  he  came  to  know 
it  better,  his  satisfaction  vanished,  and  he  bitterly 
bewailed  having  been  born  in  Norway;  he  even 
thought  seriously  of  seeking  a  foreign  audience. 
And  Welhaven,  who  was  quite  well  treated,  has 
expressed  clearly  enough  his  opinion :  — 

"  The  manners  of  a  court  are  here  at  fray 
With  petty  village  ways  and  views  of  life, 
Upon  a  field  ill-fitted  for  the  strife, 
And  neither  of  the  parties  gains  the  day." 

Thus  he  wrote  in  "  The  Twilight."  And  this  was 
not  all ;  for,  in  "  Soiree  Pictures,"  he  carried  the 
idea  still  further.  To  know  just  how  he  felt,  read 
"The  Thundered  Menace." 

"  Think  of  the  sufferings  of  a  restless  mind 
By  fogs  and  brooding  darkness  here  confined." 

Camilla  Collett  has  contributed  so  frequently 
to  the  collection  that  several  pages  would  be  re- 
quired to  print  what  she  has  said.  Only  to  quote 
a  few  lines  from  one  eloquent  example,  we  read 
in  "  The  Magistrate's  Daughters"  :  "  Oh,  thou  great, 
thou  little  town,  how  cold  and  dark  a  cloud  hangs 
over  thee !  Thou  art  great  enough,  thou  thou- 
sand-beaked, great  enough  to  pick  to  death  him 
who  no  longer  amuses  thee,  or  him  who  has  in- 


1 5  2  HENKIK  IBSEN. 

curred  thy  dislike.  But  thou  art  not  great  enough 
for  such  a  wretch  to  find  any  nook  in  which  to 
hide.  Great  art  thou ;  thou  hast  all  the  longings 
and  the  consuming  passions  of  a  great  city;  yet 
how  small  thou  art  and  poor,  that  thou  mayst  not 
satisfy  the  least  of  them." 

Bjbrnson's  voice  is  also  heard.  In  the  epilogue 
to  the  first  edition  of  his  "  Poems  and  Songs,"  he 
describes  the  struggle  between  horse  and  tiger 
in  the  Spanish  arena,  and  tells  how  the  enraged 
public  hooted  and  hissed  the  tiger  when  the  horse 
held  his  own. 

"  Who  won  at  last  I  cannot  say; 
The  horse's  part  't  is  mine  to  play, 
And  the  struggle  is  not  over. 
What  is  the  town  where  this  occurred, 
And  where  these  cries  of  rage  were  heard, 
You  may  perhaps  discover." 

A  characteristic  observation  to  be  made  in  this 
connection  is  that  none  of  our  more  conspicuous 
living  poets  have  homes  in  the  Norwegian  capital. 
They  have  either  remained  in  the  country,  as 
Bjornson  did  for  a  series  of  years,  or  they  have 
hidden,  like  Kielland,  in  some  small  village.  As 
a  rule,  they  have  gone  into  voluntary  exile  for  a 
longer  or  shorter  period.  Their  more  important 
literary  productions  have  been  shaped,  of  late 
years,  in  Paris,  Rome,  or  Munich,  —  not  in  Chris- 
tiania. 


LIFE  IN  CHRISTIANIA.  153 

As  for  Ibsen,  he  had  better  occasion  than  any 
other  to  appreciate  the  disposition  of  Christiania 
during  the  years  that  he  directed  the  Norwegian 
theatre  of  the  capital.  There  seems  to  have  been 
but  few  who  had  any  idea  that  he  was  a  great  poet, 
even  after  he  had  furnished  proof  of  the  fact  by 
means  of  such  works  as  "  The  Chieftains "  and 
"  Love's  Comedy." 

When  "  The  Chieftains "  appeared,  it  was 
rather  coldly  received ;  Bjornson's  "  Synnove  " 
had  appeared  previously,  and  public  opinion 
seemed  to  claim  for  him  a  sort  of  monopoly  in 
the  renewal  of  the  style  of  the  saga.  Ibsen  was  put 
into  the  shade,  and,  during  the  controversy  that 
arose  in  connection  with  the  rejection  of  his  piece, 
a  great  many  rude  things  were  said  about  him  by 
anonymous  writers  for  the  newspapers.  He  was 
not  only  charged  with  dishonesty  and  "  bound- 
less vanity,"  but  was  also  told  that  his  piece 
(which  was  not  then  printed)  was  probably,  to 
judge  from  his  earlier  efforts,  a  work  of  slight 
value,  —  such  expressions  as  "  Norwegian  weeds  " 
and  "Norwegian  trash"  being  made  use  of. 
"  Herr  Ibsen  as  a  dramatic  author  is  a  complete 
nonentity,  about  whom  the  nation  can  hardly  be 
expected  to  plant  a  protecting  hedge,"  was  writ- 
ten ;  and  it  was  said  -of  "  Fru  Inger  of  Oestraat," 
upon  the  same  occasion,  that  it  "  is  so  bereft  of 


154  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

poetry  and  ideality  as  to  be  an  object  of  wonder ; 
every  character  in  this  piece  has  the  stamp  of 
vulgarity." 

When  "  Love's  Comedy  "  appeared,  things  grew 
worse  rather  than  better.  "  Morgenbladet "  de- 
clared that  the  conception  of  love  in  the  play 
was  "  provincial  indeed,"  such  as  might  have  been 
expected  of  some  country  uncle  or  aunt,  but  could 
not  have  occurred  to  a  poet.  The  point  of  view 
of  the  piece  was  "  not  alone  essentially  untrue," 
and  "  immoral,"  but  "  unpoctical,  as  must  be  every 
view  which  is  unable  to  reconcile  the  real  and  the 
ideal."  And  even  this  was  nothing  as  compared 
with  the  criticism  of  "  Aftenbladot."  Although 
Ibsen  had  worked  over  three  years  upon  the 
play,  it  was  characterized  as  "  a  pitiful  product 
of  literary  trifling;  "  it  was  "a  commendation  of 
celibacy,  showing  that  H.  Ibsen  must  have  had 
Roman  Catholic  notions  in  his  head  when  he 
wrote  it ;  "  as  a  dramatic  whole  it  was  "  an  ab- 
surdity," and,  besides,  its  author  was  by  no  means 
a  remarkable  poet.  "  Ibsen  does  not  possess  what 
is  called  genius ;  he  has  merely  talent,  which  takes 
a  markedly  technical  and  mechanical  direction." 

With  the  public  the  book  raised  "  a  storm  of 
indignation,  fiercer  and  more  widespread  than 
many  books  can  boast  of  in  a  community  where 
the  large  majority  look  upon  literary  affairs  as 


LIFE  IN  CHRISTIANIA.  155 

matters  of  no  general  interest"1  The  thing  was 
carried  so  far  that  when,  some  time  afterwards, 
Ibsen  applied  for  a  travelling  stipend,  one  of  the 
professors  at  the  university  declared  that  "  the  per- 
son who  had  written  '  Love's  Comedy  '  deserved  a 
stick  rather  than  a  stipend." 

In  his  capacity  as  theatrical  director  also,  Ibsen 
had  his  full  measure  of  annoyance.  Actresses 
who  felt  themselves  slighted  attacked  him  in  the 
newspapers,  and  his  authority  in  the  town  was  not 
great  enough  to  save  him  from  being  reviled  on 
account  of  any  beginner  who  fancied,  or  whose 
admirers  fancied,  that  he  had  been  treated  slight- 
ingly. He  was  blamed  also  for  the  language 
spoken  on  the  stage;  some  thought  the  actors 
were  too  Norwegian  in  their  speech ;  others,  that 
they  were  not  Norwegian  enough  ;  still  others  com- 
plained because  Ibsen  did  not  have  a  French  coun- 
tess speak  in  ostentatiously  Norwegian  fashion. 

So  there  was  irritation  upon  all  sides ;  and  this 
was  the  more  annoying  to  Ibsen  because  the 
theatre  was  working  under  extremely  unfavorable 
financial  conditions.  The  city  was  not  large 
enough  to  support  two  competing  theatres,  and 
the  result  was  short  commons  for  both.  In  the 
summer  of  1862  the  Norwegian  theatre  became 
bankrupt,  and  Ibsen  was,  in  consequence,  left  in 
1  Ibsen's  own  words  in  the  preface  to  the  second  edition. 


156  HENRIK  IBSEN, 

the  lurch.  The  only  income  upon  which  he  could 
count  was  the  twelve  hundred  crowns  that  had 
been  granted  him  as  artistic  adviser  by  the  Chris- 
tiania  theatre  from  the  beginning  of  1863.  For 
this  sum  he  not  only  gave  his  literary  advice,  but 
was  obliged  as  well  to  see  that  the  costumes  were 
accurate,  and  to  mount  pieces  when  called  upon 
to  do  so. 

Since  Bjornson  had  been  granted  the  "  poet's 
salary"  in  1863,  Ibsen  endeavored  to  obtain  a 
similar  allowance  from  the  public  treasury,  but 
his  demand  was  not  entertained.  The  only  pub- 
lic stipend  granted  him  was  a  small  sum  given  to 
enable  him  to  travel  about  Norway  for  the  purpose 
of  collecting  the  popular  poetry  of  the  country. 

He  was,  then,  practically,  forced  to  "  live  by 
his  pen,"  as  the  saying  is;  but  this  is  a  mode  of 
subsistence  upon  which  one  does  not  grow  fat 
under  Norwegian  conditions,  especially  if,  like 
Ibsen,  one  feels  neither  the  wish  nor  the  faculty 
to  enter  journalism. 

The  honoraria  paid  him  by  the  publishers  were 
almost  incredibly  small.  For  "  Love's  Comedy  " 
he  received  but  one  hundred  specie  dalers,  and 
this  was  a  large  honorarium  for  the  period.  For 
"  Fru  Inger  "  and  "  The  Chieftains  "  he  did  not 
get  half  as  much  ;  and  when  the  Christiania  theatre 
finally  found  it  convenient  to  produce  the  piece 


LIFE  IN  CHRISTIANIA.  157 

last  named,  he  was  put  off  by  the  management 
with  a  mere  bagatelle,  —  being  informed  that,  since 
the  piece  was  in  print,  the  theatre  had  a  right  to 
produce  it  without  paying  the  author  a  skilling. 
For  a  poet  like  Ibsen,  whose  severe  self-criticism 
pulled  to  pieces  every  work  newly  begun,  the 
moment  when  it  failed  to  satisfy  him,  literary  ac- 
tivity, as  a  mode  of  subsistence  under  these  cir- 
cumstances, was  not  far  from  being  synonymous 
with  starvation.  So  low  were  his  finances  at  this 
time  that  some  of  his  friends,  —  according  to  a 
biographical  sketch  published  in  the  "  Norsk 
Folkeblad  "  for  1869, — set  out  in  real  earnest  to 
use  their  influence  in  procuring  for  him  a  subordi- 
nate position  in  the  custom-house,  or  some  simi- 
lar means  of  livelihood.  A  cheerful  outlook  for 
the  author  of  "  The  Chieftains  "  and  "  Love's 
Comedy,"  to  preside  over  the  customs'  scales,  and 
calculate  the  duty  on  bags  of  sugar  and  coffee ! 

To  add  to  this  private  wretchedness  came  the 
war  between  Denmark  and  Germany.  Ibsen's 
enthusiasm  of  1848  was  still  alive,  and  the  shape 
taken  by  events  filled  him  with  grief  and  indigna- 
tion. With  his  warm  poetic  enthusiasm  he  could 
not  understand,  and  still  less  could  he  share,  the 
hesitation  of  the  Norwegian  national  assembly  to 
join  with  Denmark,  and  worse  than  all  this  was 
the  fact  that  the  academic  youth  of  the  country 


158  HENR1K  IBSEN. 

remained  quietly  at  home,  although  in  their 
student  gatherings  they  had  sworn,  —  their  cham- 
pagne glasses  lifted  in  pledge  thereof,  —  to  sacri- 
fice life  and  blood  in  Denmark's  cause. 

"  The  words  flowed  forth  as  if  from  out 

The  very  heart  they  came  ; 
They  were  but  phrases,  and  a  drought 

Now  follows  to  our  shame  1 
The  tree  bade  fair  to  bloom,  in  sooth, 

Beneath  the  sunbeams  bright ; 
Now  stripped  by  tempests  without  ruth, 
It  marks  the  grave  of  Norway's  youth, 

Upon  the  first  dark  night. 

"  'T  was  but  a  lie  then,  nothing  worth, 

A  J  udas  kiss  of  hate, 
That  proudly  Norway's  sons  put  forth 
Down  by  the  Sound  of  late." 

A  feeling  of  the  pettiness  of  it  all  burned  within 
him,  and  mankind  appeared  to  him  in  a  gloomier 
aspect  than  ever  before.  He  felt  himself  glow 
with  scorn  for  the  nation  to  which  he  belonged. 

Before  this  he  had  viewed  his  country  less  and 
less  favorably.  In  "  Love's  Comedy  "  he  had  at- 
tacked the  crudity  of  sentiment  that  he  had  ob- 
served ;  and  even  in  the  historical  drama  of  "  The 
Pretenders"  he  had  found  place  for  an  outburst 
against  pettiness  and  lack  of  individuality,  which 
shows  how  his  indignation  was  increasing.  We 
recall  the  famous  verses  of  Bishop  Nikolas  in  the 
fifth  act,  — 


LIFE  IN  CHRISTIANIA.  159 

"  Norway's  men  on  their  way  are  going, 
Irresolute,  wavering,  whither  not  knowing; 
Like  pliant  willows  swayed  by  the  wind, 
Dry  of  heart,  and  stealthy  of  mind. 
On  one  thing  only  can  they  agree, 
That  a  great  man  must  stoned  and  hooted  be ; 
Beggary's  clout  as  a  flag  is  raised, 
And  honor  takes  flight  from  them  amazed." 

The  whole  of  the  ghost  scene,  in  which  these 
lines  occur,  really  stands  quite  apart  from  the  play, 
and  is,  dramatically,  so  obvious  a  mistake  that  we 
may  wonder  that  a  dramatist  of  Henrik  Ibsen's 
rank  should  have  penned  it ;  but  the  fact  simply 
was,  that  his  indignation  had  grown  so  strong  that 
he  could  not  restrain  it ;  it  had  to  find  expression, 
even  at  the  expense  of  the  dramatic  structure  of 
such  a  work  as  "  The  Pretenders." 

But  if  these  were  his  feelings  during  the  summer 
of  1863,  what  must  he  have  felt  the  following 
winter?  What  was  everything  he  had  before  seen 
and  experienced  compared  with  what  he  came  to 
see  and  experience  during  the  war?  The  "bitter 
tonic  "  that  should  give  him  strength  to  break  new 
paths,  was  at  hand.  He  had  had  enough  of  Nor- 
way and  of  N.orthmen.  His  aim  now  was  to  gain 
the  tranquillity  and  independence  needed  to  enable 
him  to  clarify  and  to  shape  all  the  new  ideas  that 
were  working  in  his  mind.  He  must  escape  from 
the  hampering  conditions  of  his  life  in  Christiania; 


160  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

he  must  away  from  the  whole  petty  round,  he 
must  put  himself  in  the  position  to  look  at  it  all 
frorn  a  distance,  to  gain  "  a  higher  view  of  the  mat- 
ter." As  a  poet,  there  was  no  future  for  him  here 
at  home  ;  he  felt  as  if  he  were  standing  on  "  the 
edge  of  his  grave,"  as  he  afterward  expressed  it 
in  a  poem  written  for  the  millennial  celebration. 
And  the  grave  was  Christiania,  situated  in  the 
churchyard  called  Norway. 

"  From  this  sultry  hole  away  1 
Here  the  air  smells  of  the  grave; 
Here  no  outspread  banner  may 
Freely  in  the  breezes  wave  1 " 1 

When  he  made  his  application  to  the  govern- 
ment for  a  travelling  stipend  he  felt  it  to  be  a 
matter  of  life  and  death ;  and  when  the  application 
was  really  granted,  he  felt  that  it  brought  him 
salvation. 

But  even  these  last  moments  at  home  were  not 
to  pass  without  their  characteristic  annoyances. 
It  devolved  upon  the  university  to  decide  upon 
such  applications  as  that  which  Ibsen  had  made, 
and  that  institution  was  not  to  be  surpassed  in 
pettiness  by  the  rest  of  the  town.  It  was  upon 
this  occasion  that  the  suggestion  concerning  the 
stick  was  made,  and,  to  crown  the  work,  a  grant  of 
but  half  the  sum  he  had  applied  for  was  recom- 
1  BRAND. 


LIFE  IN  CHRISTIANIA.  l6l 

mended.  This  made  the  stipend  so  small  that  it 
could  be  considered  neither  fish  nor  fowl.  So 
Ibsen  went  to  the  head  of  the  Department  of 
Education  and  Ecclesiastical  Affairs,  State  Coun- 
cillor Riddervold,  and  explained  to  him  the  situa- 
tion. The  result  was  that  this  official  granted  the 
entire  sum  asked  for,  on  behalf  of  the  department 
of  which  he  was  chief. 

The  2d  of  April,  1864,  Ibsen  shook  the  dust  of 
Christiania  from  his  feet.  May  found  him  in  Ber- 
lin, and  thence  he  set  forth  for  Trieste  and  Rome. 


IV. 


CONTROVERSIAL   PERIOD. 

traveller  from  the  North,  who  first  catches 
*•  sight  of  Italy  or  of  the  Mediterranean,  is 
always  deeply  impressed ;  and  especially  he  who, 
like  Ibsen,  goes  by  way  of  Trieste.  During  the 
night  one  passes  through  southern  Austria,  and, 
waking  up  before  sunrise,  looks  out  of  the  rail- 
way carriage  window.  One  can  hardly  imagine 
anything  more  barren  and  desert-like  than  the 
surrounding  landscape.  The  way  leads  over  a 
vast  plain,  over  which  are  scattered  weather-beaten 
rocks,  which  tower  up  in  the  most  singular  shapes. 
This  is  the  so-called  "  Karst."  The  sun  rises,  but 
its  light  cannot  make  this  gray  and  stony  desert 
appear  less  barren  or  more  cheerful.  Suddenly 


CONTROVERSIAL  PERIOD.  163 

the  train  turns  a  sharp  curve,  the  way  leads  down 
a  terraced  and  vine-clad  slope,  and  the  blue 
Adriatic  appears  far  below,  decked  with  white  sails 
that  gleam  in  the  sunlight  far  out  upon  the  horizon. 
He  who  has  known  such  a  morning  hour,  can 
never  forget  it. 

From  Trieste  the  road  goes  on  to  Venice  and 
farther,  amid  the  loveliest  and  most  smiling  land- 
scapes. How  luxuriant  the  vegetation  and  how 
bright  the  colors !  Wherever  we  go,  the  light 
shines,  gleams,  sparkles ;  it  seems  to  us  as  if  we 

had   never  seen  any  color  but  gray  before ;    the 

if 
very   sky    is    different,    loftier,    more   transparent, 

deeper  of  hue.  And  when  the  sun  goes  down, 
and  the  night  falls,  sudden  as  a  surprise,  the  moon 
comes  out,  the  radiant  moon  of  the  Italian  sum- 
mer night.  One  may  perhaps  faintly  conceive  it 
by  recalling  the  moonlight  of  an  August  evening 
in  Norway.  The  brightness  and  beauty  of  the 
light  make  one  fairly  wild  with  enthusiasm,  make 
one  wander  for  hours  over  moonlit  fields  and 
through  dark  groves  where  the  fireflies  flit  about, 
sparkling  like  diamonds  in  the  foliage. 

And  besides  these  impressions  of  nature,  Ibsen 
received  also  impressions  from  the  relics  of  ancient 
civilization  to  be  seen  on  all  hands  in  the  city 
which  became  his  dwelling-place.  The  greatness, 
wealth,  and  beauty  of  that  civilization  appeared 


1 64  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

to  him  in  their  most  imposing  form,  and  he  en- 
deavored, during  his  excursions  about  Rome,  to 
make  himself  familiar  with  its  monuments  of  past 
splendor.  The  study  of  this  testimony  to  a  past 
civilization  and  of  these  ruins  that  told  of  its 
downfall,  made  Ibsen  resolve  to  treat  the  downfall 
dramatically,  and  he  planned  a  play  in  which 
Julian  the  Apostate  should  be  the  principal  figure, 
even  beginning  to  put  the  plan  into  execution. 
But  impressions  of  a  different  and  more  personal 
nature  soon  got  the  upper  hand.  They  were 

impressions  that  he  had  brought  from  home.    The 

* 
very  contrast  offered  by  his  present  surroundings 

made  these  impressions  all  the  more  distinct  for 
him.  He  felt  as  if  his  whole  life  in  Norway  had 
been  spent  in  the  dark ;  it  seemed  to  him  as  to 
Oswald,  that  he  could  not  recall  ever  having  seen 
the  sun  shine  at  home.1  He  had  the  feeling  of 
having  escaped  from  some  gloomy  dungeon  where 
he  had  languished  in  chains;  and,  like  the  freed 
prisoner,  he  vowed  to  himself  that  he  would  never 
return.  How  poor,  cold,  confined,  and  petty  was 
everything  at  home ! 

And  there  emerged  from  all  these  thoughts  and 
feelings  a  series  of  old  impressions  of  nature  in 

1  A   reference  to   "  Ghosts."     There  is  something  similar  in 

"  Brand." 

"  I  never  saw  a  sunlit  sky, 

From  fall  of  leaf  to  cuckoo-cry." 


CONTROVERSIAL  PERIOD.  165 

Norway,  which  grew  to  typical  intensity  under  the 
influence  of  the  contrast  between  past  and  present. 
On  one  of  his  commissioned  expeditions  in  search 
of  popular  poetry  he  had,  in  the  summer  of  1862, 
taken  a  pedestrian  trip  through  the  Jotunheim 
mountains.  He  started  from  Lorn,  and  crossed 
the  range  from  Baeverdalen  to  Fortun.  The  view 
down  from  the  mountain  height  into  the  narrow 
Fortun  valley,  with  its  steep  and  savage  slopes, 
was  one  of  the  memories  that  awoke  within  him. 
Then  he  had  journeyed  from  Vadeim  over  Forde 
to  the  commercial  town  of  Hellesylt  in  Sun- 
delven,  where  he  had  sojourned  for  several  days. 
Close  by  stood  the  ruins  of  a  parsonage,  de- 
stroyed by  an  avalanche.  Fearing  further  land- 
slides, it  had  not  been  rebuilt,  and  the  pastor, 
with  his  wife  and  infant  child,  were  lodging  with 
a  peasant  upon  the  mountain  side.  Ibsen  made 
them  a  visit  and  asked  the  pastor's  wife,  a  young 
and  amiable  lady  with  a  cheerful  smile,  if  they  were 
not  still  afraid  of  a  landslide.  "  No,"  she  replied, 
"  the  house  lies  so  close  up  to  the  mountain  wall 
that  a  slide  would  pass  over  without  touching  it." 

These  impressions  of  travel  were  put  together 
by  Ibsen's  fancy  into  the  picture  of  a  mountain 
valley  which  we  see  in  "  Brand."  And  with  this 
mountain  valley  a  new  conception  of  Norwegian 
nature  found  literary  expression. 


1 66  HENKIK  IBSEN. 

The  poets  of  preceding  periods  had  dwelt  only 
upon  the  gentle  and  graceful  aspects  of  our  natural 
scenery.     Reading  their  poems,  a  stranger  might 
almost  believe   that  we   have  a  mild   and   lovely 
summer  all  the  year  round.     Fine  "sun  effects" 
almost  always  made  of  the  barest  spot "  a  gleaming 
little  land  of  fable,"  as  Welhaven  puts  it ;   it  is  of 
fair  forests  and  mountains,  fragrant  with  the  odor 
of  the  spruce,  and  made  melodious  by  the  song 
of  birds,  that  we  read  in  Asbjornsen's  fairy  tales ; 
and  of  soft  summer  evenings  that  the  poems  of 
Jorgen  Moe  tell.      Even  in  darker  moods  nature 
was  still  gentle.     So  melancholy  a  nature  as  Bern- 
hard  Herre  went  no  further  than  to  describe  the 
sadness  of  autumn ;   and  an  elegiac  poet  like  A. 
Munch  was  contented  with   bemoaning  the  brief 
Northern  summer.     No  one  pictured  the  harshness 
and  poverty  of  Norwegian  nature.     It  was  always 
mild  and  graceful,  whether  we  saw  it  with  Synnove 
at   Solbakken    or   with    Thorbjorn   at   Granleden. 
If  a  poet  ventured   for  once  to  engage  with  our 
mountain   scenery,   as  Welhaven    did   in   "  Eivind 
Bolt,"  it  was  but  to  sing  the  sublimity  of  the  im- 
pression made  by  the  mountains  upon  us ;  and  if 
winter  were  pictured,  as  by  Jorgen  Moe  in  "A 
Sleigh   Ride,"   and    by  Welhaven   in  "  The  Race 
Track,"  the  poet  had  an  eye  only  for  its  magical 
beaut)T.      Ibsen  himself  contributed  to  this  glori- 


CONTROVERSIAL  PERIOD.  l6/ 

fication  of  Norwegian  scenery  when  he  drew,  in 
"  Mountain  Life,"  a  delicate  and  glowing  picture 
of  the  mountains,  "  in  their  splendor  of  amber 
and  gold." 

Now  let  "  Brand  "  be  taken  up  and  the  contrast 
will  be  evident.  We  seem  to  be  transported  to 
another  country,  many  degrees  further  to  the 
north.  The  snow  drifts,  the  storm  rages,  the  ice 
hangs  heavy  and  threatening  upon  the  mountain 
side,  and  the  sunlight  never  reaches  the  dwellers 
in  the  valley ;  only  at  midsummer,  for  a  period  of 
some  three  weeks,  is  its  light  seen  at  all,  and  then 
only  on  the  mountain  slope.  Everything  delicate 
is  chilled,  grows  sickly,  and  dies ;  the  grain  does 
not  ripen,  dearth  and  famine  hover  over  the  settle- 
ment as  a  curse.  Such  is  the  mountain  valley  in 
"  Brand." 

But  this  mountain  valley  grew  upon  Henrik 
Ibsen's  imagination  until  it  became  the  typical 
Norwegian  landscape ;  in  "  Brand "  it  stands  for 
Norway,  just  as,  in  "  Peder  Paars,"  Anholt  stands 
for  Denmark.  The  valley  people  are  the  whole 
Norwegian  people;  and  no  less  novel  than  the 
poet's  conception  of  nature  is  his  conception  of 
the  people,  as  compared  with  that  previously  cur- 
rent in  literature.  The  poets  of  an  earlier  period 
had  burnt  much  incense  to  the  Norwegian  nation. 
Soon  after  1814  they  began  to  sing  with  enthusi- 


1 68  HENKIK  IBSEN. 

asm  of  "  the  mountain's  son,"  and  the  enthusiasm 
lasted  for  two  or  three  decades.  When  the  roman- 
tic spirit  began  to  assert  itself  in  the  forties,  this 
enthusiasm  underwent  but  a  slight  change  in  char- 
acter. Previously,  it  had  raved  about  the  free  and 
proud  peasant-proprietor;  now  the  ideal  peasant 
of  the  poet,  living  his  careless  life  as  in  a  dream, 
unconcerned  by  the  trivial  and  prosaic  interests  of 
the  day,  became  the  object  of  its  admiration. 

But  the  people  of  Ibsen's  mountain  valley  are 
not  poetic  figures  of  this  sort.  They  are  people 
who  toil  hard  to  win  their  subsistence  from  grudg- 
ing nature;  they  are  blunted  and  worn  by  labor, 
their  heads  are  bowed,  their  backs  are  bent,  their 
gaze  is  upon  the  mould,  their  thought  creeps  like 
a  worm  upon  its  belly,  instead  of  taking  flight  like 
a  bird.  The  struggle  for  bread  comes  to  be  the 
essential,  comes  to  be  the  whole  of  life. 

"  All  your  pater  noster,  even, 
Without  wings  of  will  is  found, 
By  so  little  fear  is  stirred, 
That  within  the  gates  of  heaven  — 
Vibrant  as  a  voice  should  sound  — 
Number  four l  alone  is  heard  ! 
That  the  watchword  of  the  land, 
That  the  war-cry  of  the  race, 
Torn  from  out  its  proper  place, 
•Every  heart  it  holds  in  fief, 
And  your  tempest-tossed  belief 
Lies  a  wreck  upon  the  strand." 

1  The  fourth  petition  of  the  Lord's  Prayer,  "  Give  us  this  day 
our  dailv  bread." 


CONTROVERSIAL   PERIOD.  169 

Even  if  the  people  were  simply  and  wholly 'a 
race  of  drudges  they  might  have  a  certain  char- 
acter of  their  own,  but  instead  of  this  they  squint 
heavenward  with  one  eye  while  the  other  is  fixed 
upon  the  earth ;  thence  arises  the  indecision  and 
lack  of  character  that  distinguish  them  as  a  nation. 

"  Go  but  about  the  land,  and  when 
You  listen  to  all  sorts  of  men, 
How  each  has  learned,  you  soon  may  see, 
A  little  of  everything  to  be. 
A  little  serious  on  occasion, 
A  little  faith  from  former  days, 
A  little  love  of  dissipation, 
Still  following  in  his  father's  ways,  — 
A  little  warmth,  such  as  belongs 
To  hours  of  mirth  and  festal  songs, 
Among  our  little  mountain-folk 
That  never  yet  a  beating  took ; 
In  promises  a  little  free, 
A  little  sharp,  when  soberly 
He  weighs  the  lightly  spoken  phrase, 
Called  to  account  in  after  days. 
Yet  far,  as  all  examples  teach, 
His  faults,  his  virtues,  do  not  reach ; 
A  fraction  he,  in  small  and  great, 
For  good  and  ill,  a  fraction's  weight. 
And  then,  alas,  and  worst  of  all, 
These  fractions  do  not  fit  at  all." 

And  like  unto  the  nation  is  its  conception  of 
God:  — 

"  The  Saviour,  in  the  Catholic  plan, 
Is  pictured  as  a  child;  but  here, 
Your  Lord  is  but  a  weak  old  man, 
Who  is  his  second  childhood  near. 


170  HENKIK  IBSEN. 

•  He,  like  the  race,  is  growing  old, 

And  wears  a  skull-cap  for  the  cold." 

At  the  same  time  that  he  makes  this  attack 
upon  the  nation  the  author  turns  his  sharpened 
weapon  upon  its  official  representatives.  They 
are  responsible  for  it  all.  First  of  all  there  is  the 
bailiff,  who  has  grown  to  be  so  entirely  official 
that  he  has  ceased  to  be  a  man.  If  he  is  called  on 
for  help,  he  does  not  ask  how  pressing  is  the  need, 
but  only  whether  the  case  comes  within  his  baili- 
wick; and  when  his  dwelling  takes  fire,  he  cares 
deuced  little  about  saving  his  soul,  provided  only 
he  can  save  his  official  records.  He  is  a  charitable 
man,  working  for  the  interest  of  his  district,  but 
he  has  only  an  eye  for  the  material.  Increase 
of  population,  aids  to  subsistence,  the  development 
of  means  of  communication,  —  these  are  the  aims 
which  he  boasts  of  having  furthered,  and  his  great 
philanthropic  dream  of  the  future  is  to  build  an 
ingenious  combination  of  public  hall,  polling-place, 
madhouse,  poorhouse,  and  lockup.  If  this  plan 
might  only  be  carried  out,  then  nothing  would  be 
wanting.  What  besides  remains  is  an  inspiration 
of  the  Evil  One,  unless  we  except  a  little  poetry 
for  the  evening  hours,  and  a  little  good-fellowship 
and  speech-making  when  the  punch  is  brought  on 
at  village  parties.  Besides  being  bailiff  he  is  a 
member  of  the  Storthing,  and  the  lash  touches 


CONTROVERSIAL   PERIOD.  17 1 

him  in  this  capacity  when  Brand  describes  him  as 

"  A  popular  type,  not  worse 
Than  that ;  a  man  upright  and  kind, 
In  his  way  active,  fair  of  mind, 
Yet  to  the  land  a  very  curse. 
Not  avalanche,  wintry  blast,  or  flood, 
Famine,  infection  of  the  blood, 
Works  half  the  havoc  far  and  near, 
As  such  a  one  from  year  to  year. 
Those  scourges  touch  our  lives  alone, 
But  he !  —     How  many  hopes  o'erthrown, 
How  many  generous  motions  crushed, 
How  many  mighty  songs  are  hushed, 
By  such  a  small,  contracted  mind  ! 
How  many  a  smile  to  lips  that  stole, 
How  many  a  glow  within  the  soul, 
How  many  a  vow  that  might,  at  need, 
Have  ripened  into  noble  deed, 
Has  been  to  death  by  him  consigned !  " 

The  dean  is  rather  worse  than  better;  as  the 
bailiff  leaves  everything  of  an  elevating  character 
for  holidays  and  festival  occasions,  so  the  dean 
leaves  religion  for  Sundays.  Men  must  work  on 
week-days ;  they  need  be  stirred  only  on  Sunday, 
when  it  is  the  pastor's  duty  to  discourse  to  them  of 
the  ideal ;  but  he  must  put  a  stop  to  even  this  as 
soon  as  he  has  come  down  from  the  pulpit.  A 
clergyman  is  not  the  spiritual  guardian  of  the  in- 
dividual members  of  the  community;  he  is,  first 
and  foremost,  an  official  in  the  service  of  the  state. 
He  must  first  do  what  the  state  requires,  and  then 
look  after  his  own  interests.  Finally,  in  the  persons 


1 72  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

of  the  schoolmaster  and  the  sexton,  the  lower  rep- 
resentatives of  officialdom  are  made  sport  of.  The 
schoolmaster,  who,  as  well  as  the  bailiff,  has  been  a 
member  of  the  Storthing,  says  to  his  colleague :  — 

"  But  we  too  have  a  different  law 
From  that  which  governs  most  men's  action ; 
We  are  the  servants  of  the  state, 
Our  part  it  is  to  keep  things  straight, 
Virtue  and  science  to  protect, 
And  passion's  promptings  to  reject, 
In  short,  to  stand  outside  of  faction." 

And  afterward,  when  they  hear  Brand  playing 
upon  the  organ  in  the  church,  they  are  given  the 
following  characteristic  dialogue :  — 

THE  SCHOOLMASTER. 
Hm,  —  that  might  move  one,  on  condition  — 

THE  SEXTON. 
Yes,  were  one  not  a  functionary. 

THE  SCHOOLMASTER. 

A  due  regard  for  our  position 
Must  make  us  of  expression  chary. 

THE  SEXTO.V. 

Yet,  were  you  not  compelled  to  think, 
Might  send  to  the  devil  pen  and  ink,  — 

THE  SCHOOLMASTER. 
If  you  were  free  to  feel,  instead 
Of  tolling  church-bells  for  the  dead,  — 

THE  SEXTON. 
Friend,  no  one  sees  us,  —  let  us  feel  1 


CONTROVERSIAL  PERIOD.  173 

THE  SCHOOLMASTER. 

'T  would  be  unfitting  to  reveal 
That  we  are  human  in  our  hearts. 
The  teaching  that  the  priest  imparts 
Says  that  no  man  should  play  two  parts ; 
Not  even  he  who  would  be  can 
At  once  official  be,  and  man. 

These  frequent  denunciations  of  officialdom  as 
the  cause  of  popular  stupidity  and  materialism  are 
based  in  part  upon  the  peculiar  conditions  of  the 
period,  and  in  part  upon  the  theory  of  government 
which  —  influenced,  to  a  certain  extent,  by  those 
very  conditions  —  Henrik  Ibsen  had  shaped. 

The  greater  portion  of  the  period  that  had 
elapsed,  from  the  time  of  his  attainment  to  man- 
hood to  the  time  of  his  leaving  Norway,  had 
been  a  dull  and  material  period,  —  a  golden  age 
for  officialdom,  since  administrative  activity  played 
the  chief  part  in  the  history  of  those  years.  Ques- 
tions of  national  importance,  like  those  of  the 
theatre  and  of  the  royal  vice-regency,  had  indeed 
arisen  and  made  a  considerable  stir,  but  those  who 
were  responsible  for  this  agitation  were  regarded 
by  the  majority  as  disturbers  of  the  peace  and  wild 
demagogues.  That  with  which  opinion  was  chiefly 
concerned  was  neither  the  independence  of  the  na- 
tion, nor  its  intellectual  development,  but  rather  its 
economic  welfare.  So  roads  were  laid  out,  large 
and  stately  district-prisons  erected,  commercial  re- 


1 74  HENKIK  IBSEN. 

lations  improved,  new  means  of  subsistence  pro- 
vided, temperance  associations  founded,  and  many 
other  useful  things  done.  Unfortunately,  it  was 
fancied  that  to  do  these  things  was  the  sum  of  the 
nation's  obligations.  Anything  that  looked  beyond 
the  material  was  purely  visionary,  and  required  to 
be  suppressed.  The  people  should  be  of  one  mind, 
just  like  the  employes  of  a  business  house  or  the 
soldiers  of  a  company;  the  ideal  citizen  was  the 
characterless  average  man,  with  no  distinct  traits, 
and  the  rule  of  life  was  to  cling  humbly  and  un- 
complainingly to  earth.  It  was  said  with  the  dean 
in  "  Brand  "  :  — 

"  If  you  will  think,  you  soon  will  see, 
My  little  flock,  what 's  for  your  best. 
Can  yours  be  any  great  behest  ? 
How  may  you  set  the  bondman  free  ? 
You  have  your  little  daily  task, 
And  more  than  this  you  should  not  ask. 
Your  arms,  how  useless  in  the  fray  I 
'T  is  yours  to  guard  your  homes  to-day. 
'Twixt  wolf  and  bear  what  would  you  do? 
'Twixt  hawk  and  eagle  where  were  you  ? 
You  would  but  fall  the  victor's  prey." 

It  was  this  cowardly  materialism,  Ibsen  felt,  that 
was  responsible  for  the  stand  taken  by  Norway  at 
the  time  of  the  war  between  Denmark  and  Ger- 
many, and  the  poem  often  makes  reference  to  it 

But  the  root  of  his  discontent  went  deeper  than 
the  conditions  of  the  time  and  place;  it  really 


CONTROVERSIAL  PERIOD.  175 

grew  from  the  modern  idea  of  the  state,  and 
toward  that  the  author  eventually  directs  his  at- 
tack in  the  name  of  freedom  and  individualism. 
This  attack  is  also  made  in  the  unconscious  per- 
son of  the  dean :  — 

"  The  state  you  '11  find,  if  it  you  scan, 
Exactly  half  republican. 
Freedom  it  hates  as  't  were  the  pest ; 
Equality,  it  thinks,  is  best. 
But  that  you  never  can  attain 
Till  to  one  plane  all  things  you  level ; 
Since  this  you  do  not,  there  remain 
Great  inequalities;  the  evil 
Grows  greater  than  it  was  before  ; 
Distinctions  count  for  more  and  more  ; 
The  servant  of  the  church  of  yore 
An  individual  of  late 
Has  grown,  and  weakened  is  the  state." 

All  should  be  made  to  keep  the  same  pace, — 

"  For  each  man  his  appointed  place ; 
That  all  keep  step  as  formerly, 
Should  now,  as  then,  our  object  be." 

The  corporal  is  the  ideal  leader,  and  the  church, 
as  a  part  of  the  regulative  machinery  of  the 
state,  must  follow  its  methods ;  the  priest  must 
learn  of  the  corporal  to  lead  his  followers  in 
unbroken  step  through  life  to  paradise. 

So  the  attack  upon  the  Norwegian  people,  be- 
gun as  a  satire  of  officialdom,  is  developed  into 
a  polemical  discussion  of  the  state  as  an  institu- 

12 


176  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

tion,  and  of  the  official   church  as  a  part  of  the 
apparatus  of  government. 

In  contrast  with  everything  that  is  thus  attacked, 
Ibsen  has  given  us  Brand.  That  in  which  the 
people  are  lacking  he  possesses  in  superabun- 
dance ;  he  is  the  incarnation  of  will  and  idealism, 
of  force  and  enthusiasm.  With  all  the  strength  of 
his  simple  and  massive  personality  he  confronts  the 
prevailing  spirit  of  compromise  with  his  inexor- 
able "all  or  nothing;  "  and,  as  the  champion  of 
individuality,  he  leads  the  fight  against  the  rep- 
resentatives of  officialdom,  both  temporal  and 
spiritual.  We  are  not  necessarily  to  identify 
Brand  with  Ibsen;  for,  although  Brand  is  an 
ideal  creation,  his  is  not  a  fixed  character  from 
the  start,  any  more  than  are  the  principal  figures 
of  Ibsen's  other  dramas ;  his  character  is  devel- 
oped with  the  action  of  the  poem.  Although 
we  perceive  Ibsen  in  all  that  Brand  says,  he  be- 
comes nowhere  wholly  identified  with  his  hero. 
He  has  endeavored  to  shape  a  figure  ideally  in 
contrast  with  those  actual  qualities  against  which 
his  satire  is  directed,  and  this  design  has  deter- 
mined the  character  of  Brand.  The  develop- 
ment of  the  poem  is  the  gradual  growth,  in 
Brand's  mind,  of  the  conviction  that  the  two 
conceptions  of  life  are  irreconcilable.  His  pur- 
pose is  so  to  arouse  and  to  steel  the  people  that 


CONTROVERSIAL  PERIOD.  177 

the  individual  may  arise  from  his  torpor  as  a 
distinct  personality;  and  to  this  end  he  declares 
war  upon  the  representatives  of  officialdom.  As, 
for  example,  when  he  says  to  the  bailiff,  — 

"  The  people,  that  so  long  has  drowsed 
Beneath  your  rule,  shall  be  aroused ! 
For  long  enough  their  spirit  in 
Your  narrow  cage  confined  has  been; 
They  who  adopt  your  regimen 
Mopish  and  dull  go  forth  again. 
The  nation's  best  blood  you  have  lapped, 
The  best  part  of  its  courage  sapped ; 
Souls  have  been  crushed  at  your  command, 
That  firm  as  adamant  should  stand  ; 
But  now  the  day  of  vengeance  nears, 
And  war-cries  thunder  in  your  ears." 

He  opens  his  warfare  with  officialdom  by  be- 
coming one  of  its  representatives,  —  by  becoming 
the  priest  of  his  native  town.  He  indeed  creates 
a  stir  and  awakens  those  around  him  to  new  life, 
yet  he  does  not  feel  altogether  satisfied.  He 
does  not  seem  quite  able  to  find  room  for  his 
ideals  in  his  present  environment.  The  church 
is  too  small  for  the  God  of  whom  he  testifies, 
and  so  he  resolves  to  build  a  larger  one ;  but,  in 
putting  this  resolution  into  effect,  he  comes  to 
realize  that  he  himself,  the  spokesman  of  the 
logical,  has  been  occupying  an  uncertain  and 
illogical  position.  The  dean's  words  concerning 
the  relation  between  church  and  state  arouse  him 


1/8  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

to  full  consciousness  of  the  falsity  of  his  position ; 
and,  with  the  declaration  that  the  spirit  of  com- 
promise is  Satan  himself,  he  breaks  away  from 
the  whole  accursed  system,  —  this  rupture  being 
symbolically  indicated  by  his  act  of  locking  the 
church  door  and  flinging  the  key  into  the  river. 
The  tragic  feature  of  his  destiny  lies  in  the  too 
tardy  realization  that  leads  to  this  breach,  in  his 
having  made  all  his  sacrifices  in  vain,  in  the  fact 
that  he,  with  all  his  passionate  craving  for  com- 
pleteness and  thoroughness,  has  himself  bowed 
down  to  the  spirit  of  compromise,  to  the  Tempter 
himself.  Brand  is  then  by  no  means  an  ideal 
figure,  as  the  term  is  commonly  understood,  but 
a  militant  character,  developed  in  the  very  heat 
of  combat;  and,  however  fully  he  may  be  the 
spokesman  of  Ibsen's  controversial  notions,  the 
latter  has  shaped  him  in  so  objective  a  fashion 
that  he  appears  a  distinct  character,  not  a  mere 
speaking-trumpet. 

Artistically  viewed,  he  is  a  fanciful  creation,  not 
a  figure  from  real  life;  he  stands  in  contrast  to 
the  real  rather  than  represents  it.  And  yet  the 
impulse  which  led  Ibsen  to  shape  such  a  figure  is 
to  be  found  in  an  actual  impression. 

At  the  time,  "  Brand  "  was  regarded  as  an  es- 
sentially Christian  poem,  mainly  because  Brand 
is  a  priest.  It  was  generally  looked  upon  as  a 


CONTROVERSIAL  PERIOD.  179 

sermon  of  the  brimstone  and  hell-fire  description. 
Yet  Ibsen  had  already  given  warning  against  such 
a  misconception.  He  allows  Einar  to  fall  into  this 
error  when  he  represents  him  as  saying  to  Brand : 

"  Yours  is  the  brood  of  those  who  feign 
That  men  are  dust,  and  life  is  vain ; 
The  soul  with  fear  you  work  upon, 
Sackcloth  and  ashes  to  put  on." 

To  which  Brand  replies,  — 

"  No,  I  am  not  a  preachifier, 
Nor  do  I  speak  as  priests  for  hire ; 
I  may  not  even  Christian  be, 
But  as  a  man  I  take  my  stand ; 
And  this  I  know,  that  I  can  see 
The  curse  that  lies  upon  this  land." 

In  the  last  four  of  these  lines  Brand's  character 
is  given  with  the  conciseness  of  a  definition ;  and, 
that  there  may  be  no  doubt  at  all  about  the 
matter,  he  says  shortly  afterward, — 

"  Nor  do  I  in  my  work  pretend 
Or  church  or  dogma  to  defend  ; 
From  some  beginning  both  are  dated, 
And  so  it  easily  may  be 
That  we  the  end  of  both  shall  see, — 
Theiry?«/.r  have  all  things  created." 

But  back  of  all  this,  man  himself,  with  his  possi- 
bilities of  full  and  symmetrical  development, 
remains  as  a  permanent  factor,  and  him  would 
Brand  raise  from  the  mire.  As  we  see,  his  stand- 
point is  far  from  being  that  of  the  pietist,  —  Einar, 


ISO  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

in  his  missionary  period,  stands  for  the  pietistic 
view  of  life,  —  it  is  not  even  a  religious  standpoint 
If  we  read  such  lines  as  these,  — 

"  With  joy  no  hearts  are  breaking  here. 

'Twere  well  indeed,  if  that  were  all 
Our  cause  for  grief ;  if  pleasure's  thrall 
Thou  art,  be  that  from  year  to  year; 
But  be  not  that  to-day,  to-morrow, 
And  then  next  year  a  prey  to  sorrow ; 
Be  altogether  what  thou  art,  — 
Be  something  wholly,  not  in  part," 

we  shall  understand  how  purely  human  is  the 
author's  standpoint.  As  the  attack  upon  the 
church  forms  only  a  part  of  the  controversial  con- 

• 

tents  of  the  poem,  so  the  religious  element  is  but 
one  factor  in  Brand's  character.  Besides,  Ibsen 
has  himself  declared  that  Brand's  priestly  character 
and  the  fact  that  the  problem  is  given  a  religious 
statement,  are  unessential  elements.  "  I  might 
have  embodied  the  syllogism  in  the  person  of  a 
sculptor  or  a  politician  as  well  as  in  that  of  a 
priest,"  he  wrote  to  Georg  Brandes. 

However,  the  fact  that  Brand  is  represented  as  a 
priest  was  not  wholly  the  result  of  accident.  The 
actual  observations  upon  which  the  figure  was 
based  were  made  among  the  clergy. 

Danish  critics,  Brandes  among  them,  and,  follow- 
ing in  his  footsteps,  the  majority  of  the  German 
writers  who  have  dealt  with  Ibsen  of  late,  have 


CONTROVERSIAL  PERIOD.  l8l 

treated  him  in  connection  with  Soren  Kierkegaard, 
and  assumed  the  poem  to  have  been  suggested  by 
the  writings  of  the  latter,  and  by  the  agitation  led 
by  him  against  the  established  church.  It  is  easy 
to  understand  how  this  misconception  has  arisen 
among  foreigners,  not  intimately  acquainted  with 
Norwegian  conditions,  for  the  points  of  resem- 
blance are  obvious.  When  Kierkegaard  bewails 
the  pitiable  character  of  the  age,  when  he  exalts 
the  individual,  and  pours  his  scorn  upon  society, 
when  he  attacks  official  Christianity  from  the 
standpoint  of  a  broad  humanity,  and  when  he,  a 
theologian  who  had  even  been  a  preacher,  de- 
clares, at  the  close  of  his  life,  that,  sooner  than 
enter  a  church,  he  would  commit  the  grossest  of 
crimes,  the  analogy  which  he  offers  to  Brand  is 
sufficiently  apparent 

In  spite  of  this,  we  are  but  crossing  the  stream 
to  fetch  water  when  we  look  to  Kierkegaard  for 
the  actual  model  upon  which  "  Brand  "  was  based. 
At  the  time  when  "  Brand "  was  written  Ibsen 
knew  almost  nothing  of  Soren  Kierkegaard ;  he 
had  not  read  half  a  dozen  sheets  of  his  writings, 
—  a  little  of  "  Either  —  Or,"  and  some  of  "  The 
Moment,"  that  was  all.  The  course  of  Kierke- 
gaard's last  agitation  was  followed  in  Norway,  and 
naturally  aroused  a  certain  interest  there,  but  it 
made  little  impression  upon  Ibsen,  and  he  never 


1 82  HENRI K  IBSEN. 

felt  called  to  be  "  Kierkegaard's  poet,"  although 
the  term  has  been  applied  to  him. 

On  the  other  hand,  his  attention  had  been  very 
strongly  held  by  the  agitation  which  Pastor  G.  A. 
Lammers  had  aroused,  towards  the  close  of  the 
fifties,  in  Ibsen's  native  town  of  Skien. 

Lammers  was  forty-six  years  old,  and  had  been 
a  priest  for  more  than  twenty  years,  when  he 
was  appointed  parish  priest  of  Skien.  Shortly 
thereafter,  his  health  required  him  to  take  a  rather 
lengthy  trip  abroad,  and  upon  his  return  he  en- 
tered upon  the  religious  movement  that  since  has 
borne  his  name.  To  begin  with,  the  ceremony  of 
absolution  and  certain  others  of  the  ecclesiastical 
ordinances  troubled  his  conscience.  In  1855,  he 
applied  for,  and  obtained,  a  chaplain,  who  was 
to  assume  the  duties  which  he  felt  himself  unable 
to  discharge ;  but  this  did  not  satisfy  him  alto- 
gether, so,  in  June,  1856,  he  applied  for  leave 
and  a  pension.  Soon  thereafter,  he  took  a  step 
by  which  his  pension  was  forfeited ;  he  left  the 
established  church  and  founded  a  "Free  Apostolic- 
Christian  Communion  "  in  Skien.  In  his  appli- 
cation for  leave  he  stated  that  his  position  brought 
him  upwards  of  5000  crowns  yearly,  and  that  he 
was  the  father  of  two  children,  unprovided  for. 
His  pastoral  activity  in  Skien  had  made  much 
stir.  Some  warmly  sided  with  him;  others  met 


CONTROVERSIAL  PERIOD.  183 

him  with  "  opposition,  scorn,  and  mockery."  We 
read  in  a  contemporary  account  that  he  "  fear- 
lessly chastised  irregularities,  sin,  and  vice,  in  both 
public  and  private  life."  He  had  an  assistant, 
a  school-teacher,  who  "  went  about  the  town, 
entering  every  house,  asking  after  every  family, 
and,  as  far  as  possible,  after  every  individual 
member  of  the  community,  and  inquiring  into 
his  temporal  and  spiritual  condition."  He  was 
a  stern  and  imperious  priest,  thundering  against 
every  frailty  that  he  fancied  he  discovered,  and 
administering  the  severest  chastisement  to  all 
manner  of  worldliness. 

But,  if  his  activity  while  a  priest  of  the  estab- 
lished church  had  caused  a  stir,  matters  became 
much  worse  when  he  stepped  out.  His  farewell 
sermon  lies  printed  before  me,  and  it  is  interest- 
ing reading.  The  Norwegian  church  has  never, 
before  or  afterwards,  been  so  powerfully  attacked 
from  its  own  pulpit.  Upon  a  previous  occasion 
he  had  called  the  churches  comedy-houses ;  in  the 
farewell  sermon  he  offers  proof  of  the  statement. 
"  I  endeavored  to  carry  out  the  injunctions  of 
our  state  church,"  he  says,  "  or  rather,  as  far 
as  possible,  the  idea  which  they  embody;  but  I 
soon  felt  the  task  impossible,  for  the  church  seeks 
to  enforce  by  legislation  that  which  can  only  be- 
come truth  unto  salvation  under  conditions  of  the 


I  84  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

most  absolute  freedom."  The  sacraments  were 
not  for  each  and  every  one,  "  but  for  them  alone 
who  in  truth  turn  unto  the  Lord."  "  The  im- 
penitent and  unbelieving  should  have  no  part  in 
them,  even  if  they  are  not  outwardly  sinful  men, 
unless  it  is  evident  that  they  wish  to  become  con- 
verted." Infant  baptism  was  also  an  absurdity. 
"  Better  unbaptized  and  unconfirmed  children ! 
Better  be  honestly  heathen  than  thus  conform 
to  civil  conditions,  using  the  ceremonial  of  the 
church  to  protect  and  perpetuate  a  race  of  liars 
and  hypocrites !  Better  forsake  everything  to 
which  the  world  clings  than  take  part  longer  in 
this  terrible  play !  "  He  even  denounced  the  mar- 
riage ceremony  because  of  the  questions  which 
the  priest  puts  to  the  bridal  couple,  and  he  was 
equally  opposed  to  the  burial  service.  "  I  may 
even  say  that  so-called  Christian  burial  in  so-called 
Christian  earth  has  been  a  cause  of  grief  to  my 
soul,  and  seemed  to  me  an  encouragement  to 
both  impenitence  and  unbelief,  not  merely  when 
false  and  misleading  discourses  are  delivered  over 
the  dead  (and  we  hear  such  with  terrible  fre- 
quency, especially  when  the  dead  and  his  mourn- 
ers belong  to  the  more  cultivated  and  intelligent 
classes),  but  also  when  witness  is  borne  of  truth 
unto  resurrection,  he  who  is  laid  to  rest  having 
no  sure  hope  of  being  reckoned  with  the  dead 


CONTROVERSIAL  PERIOD.  185 

who  die  in  the  Lord,  and  yet  being  consecrated 
to  his  new  life  with  tribute  of  flowers  and  sacred 
song.  It  is  not  ours  to  condemn  the  departed ; 
neither  is  it  ours  to  absolve  him."  After  going  on 
in  this  fashion  for  quite  a  while,  he  ends  his  ser- 
mon with  a  prayer  "  that  the  day  come,  if  that 
be  possible,  when  here  in  this  so-called  house 
of  God,  that  shall  no  longer  be  done  which  is 
contrary  to  God's  will,  and  when  here  in  this 
fair  valley  of  the  Lord,  which  his  creative  hand 
has  so  nobly  shaped,  here  in  our  streets  and  our 
ways,  in  our  houses  and  our  fields,  above  our 
waters  and  beneath  our  woods,  there  shall  no 
longer  be  heard  blasphemies,  and  seen  shameful 
idolatries,  but  instead  of  them  prayer  to  the  living 
God  in  spirit  and  in  truth,  on  holy  days  and  week- 
days, while  resting  and  while  toiling  in  the  sweat 
of  the  brow,  in  joy  and  in  affliction." 1  Ibsen 
knew  Lammers  personally,  and  was  deeply  im- 
pressed by  his  manly  and  intrepid  stand.  The 
points  of  resemblance  between  Lammers  and 
Brand  are  obvious,  reaching  even  to  details,  and 
when  we  read  how  Lammers  gathered  his  flock 
about  him  and  went  out  into  the  fields  or  up  the 
mountain  slope  to  hold  divine  service,  we  per- 

1  This  sermon,  as  well  as  a  sketch  of  his  plan  for  a  "  Free  Apos- 
tolic-Christian Communion,"  were  published  by  Lammers  in 
Skien  (1856). 


1 86  HENRI K  IBSEN. 

ceive  a  striking  similarity  to  Brand's  conduct. 
"  Kierkegaard  was  too  much  of  a  closet  agitator," 
Ibsen  once  said  in  a  conversation  with  the  author 
of  this  book ;  "  Lammers,  on  the  other  hand,  was  an 
open-air  agitator,  like  Brand."  But  here,  as  upon 
other  occasions,  Ibsen  has  handled  his  material 
with  freedom;  it  has  served  him  as  a  starting- 
point,  not  as  an  end.  His  object  was  not  to 
present  and  explain  a  character  like  that  of  Lam- 
mers ;  he  has  merely  made  use  of  the  serviceable 
elements  of  that  character. 

His  real   object  was  to  show  how  crying   the 
contrast 

"  Between  things  as  they  really  are, 
And  as  they  rightfully  should  be." 

Hence  the  rough  form  which  is  given  to  the  poem. 
It  is  a  philippic,  a  thundered  appeal ;  it  strikes 
home  ;  it  has  in  it  no  word  of  concession.  It  was 
first  begun  by  Ibsen  as  an  epic  poem ;  when  he 
afterward  gave  preference  to  the  dramatic  form,  he 
considered  dramatic  requirements  only  in  so  far  as 
they  were  fitted  to  his  polemical  aim.  He  gave 
little  attention  to  probability  or  to  strict  dramatic 
motive;  those  matters  were  of  little  consequence 
in  the  ideal  sphere  in  which  his  hero  was  placed ; 
he  did  not  even  take  pains  to  make  his  characters 
speak  as  it  might  be  supposed  that  they  actually 
would  speak;  he  was  so  engaged  by  his  contro- 


CONTROVERSIAL  PERIOD.  187 

versial  and  satirical  aims  that  his  characters  were 
made  to  satirize  themselves  in  comically  overdrawn 
descriptions.  After  Einar's  conversion  he  speaks 
of  himself  in  the  following  fashion :  — 

"  The  tub  of  faith  has  washed  me  clean, 
There  is  no  spot  upon  me  seen ; 
The  washing-board  of  sanctity 
From  mud  has  scrubbed  me  wholly  free ; 
And  then  my  Adam's  garment  I 
Have  cleansed  with  righteousness's  lye  ; 
No  surplice  half  so  white  and  fair 
As  I,  thus  purified  by  prayer." 

The  bailiff,  the  dean,  the  schoolmaster,  and  the 
sexton  give  themselves  smart  buffets  of  this  sort. 
There  is  war  to  the  knife  from  first  to  last ;  no 
quarter  is  given,  and  there  is  no  cessation  of  hos- 
tilities except  in  the  scenes  where  Agnes  appears. 
She  brings  an  element  of  gentleness  and  reconcili- 
ation into  the  midst  of  all  this  hard  and  earnest 
fighting ;  she  is  like  a  stream  of  open  water  run- 
ning in  the  middle  of  a  frozen  river ;  all  the  author's 
warmth  of  feeling  has  found  in  her  a  vent,  and  this 
makes  of  her  a  wonderfully  inviting  figure  amidst 
the  circumstances  that  surround  her.  The  tranquil 
life  of  the  home,  upon  which,  in  spite  of  all  his 
sympathy,  Ibsen  was  a  little  severe  in  "  Love's 
Comedy,"  finds  its  full  expression  in  the  character 
of  Agnes;  and  when,  at  the  end,  the  breastwork 
which  has  been  the  scene  of  the  combat  is  swept 


1 88  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

away  by  an  avalanche,  we  are  left  with  a  double 
impression  of  sweetness  and  bitterness,  of  gentle- 
ness and  of  passion.  This  impression  exactly 
represents  the  author  himself.  His  nature,  funda- 
mentally gentle,  is  clothed  in  mail-armor  for  the 
hard  battle  of  life,  but  his  heart  beats  just  as 
warm  beneath  all  this  equipment. 

"  Brand  "  did  not  bring  the  battle  to  an  end. 
Ibsen  appeared  full-weaponed  with  another  dra- 
matic poem  the  following  year.  "Peer  Gynt" 
stands  in  the  most  intimate  relation  to  "  Brand." 
Brand  is  the  antithesis ;  Peer  Gynt  is  the  image 
itself.  In  the  former,  we  have  the  Norwegian 
nation  as  it  should  be ;  in  the  latter,  as  it  is.  In 
Brand's  description  of  the  nation  we  have  the 
sketch  for  Peer  Gynt's  portrait.  It  stands  complete 
in  these  lines :  - 

"  Go  but  about  the  land,  and  when 
You  listen  to  all  sorts  of  men, 
How  each  has  learned,  you  soon  may  see, 
A  little  of  everything  to  be. 

Yet  far,  as  all  examples  teach, 

His  faults,  his  virtues,  do  not  reach  ; 

A  fraction  he,  in  small  and  great, 

For  good  and  ill,  —  a  fraction's  weight ; 

And  then,  alas,  and  worst  of  all, 

These  fractions  do  not  fit  at  all." 

Peer  Gynt  is  the  nation  itself,  presented  in  a 
typical  figure.  All  the  faults  that  Ibsen  has  dis- 


CONTROVERSIAL  PERIOD.  189 

cerned  are  reproduced  in  him ;  he  is  the  personifi- 
cation of  the  incomplete,  the  characterless,  the 
egotistic.  If  we  do  not  bear  this  constantly  in 
mind,  we  shall  find  portions  of  the  poem  incompre- 
hensible, and  be  apt  to  entertain  misconceptions. 
Even  Georg  Brandes  has  not  escaped  such  a  mis- 
conception. He  quotes,  for  example,  the  song  of 
the  yarn-balls :  — 

"  We  are  thoughts ; 
Thou  shouldst  have  thought  us. 

We  are  a  watchword  ; 

Thou  shouldst  have  proclaimed  us. 

We  are  works ; 

Thou  shouldst  have  performed  us." 

And  he  adds :  "  Words  of  reproach,  which  we 
may  suppose  the  poet  has  uttered  to  spur 
himself  in  moments  of  relaxation,  but  which  we 
cannot  imagine  Peer  Gynt  to  have  said  in  self- 
accusation.  How  on  earth  could  this  miserable 
Peer  ever  have  proclaimed  a  watchword,  and  how 
could  he  reproach  himself  with  not  having  done 
so !  "  We  need  only  consider  Peer  Gynt  as  the 
mouthpiece  of  the  nation,  and  we  shall  find  abun- 
dant meaning  in  the  self-accusation,  —  and  this 
without  resorting  to  any  such  evasion  as  the  sup- 
position that  the  words  are  merely  a  personal 
outburst,  interpolated  by  the  poet.  The  scene 


190  HENRI K  IBSEN. 

upon  the  coast  of  Morocco,  where  Peer  Gynt  is 
shown  us  in  company  with  other  national  types, 
no  longer  seems  to  us  arbitrary  when  we  think  of 
him  as  typical  of  his  own  nationality. 

"  Peer  Gynt "  would  not,  however,  have  been  as 
complete  and  vital  a  work  as  it  is  had  the  author 
strictly  confined  himself  to  the  nationally  typical. 
In  this  work  also  we  find  him  beginning  with  an 
abstraction,  and  ending  with  a  living  individual. 

Nor  is  Peer  Gynt  the  Norwegian  in  general ;  he 
is  the  Norwegian  of  a  certain  period,  of  the  closing 
years  of  the  romantic  epoch.  In  "  Brand"  certain 
of  the  outworks  of  romanticism  were  attacked ; 
we  recall,  for  example,  the  bailiff's  enthusiasm  for 
the  times  of  King  Bele;  but  here  the  weapon  is 
aimed  at  the  romantic  stronghold.  Kindred  types 
of  the  transition  period  between  the  days  of 
romanticism  and  our  own  may  be  found  in  other 
literatures.  Tourguenicff's  "  Roudine,"  Spiel- 
hagen's  "  Problematic  Characters,"  Schack's  "  The 
Visionaries,"  and,  later,  Schandorph's  "  Centre- 
less,"  show  us  characters  having  this  in  common 
with  Peer  Gynt,  that  they  are  visionaries,  unable 
to  take  a  firm  hold  of  actual  existence.  Ibsen  has, 
however,  gone  his  own  way ;  while  the  others  have 
found  their  types  among  the  cultivated  classes,  he 
has  found  his  among  the  people.  Peer  Gynt  is 
not,  like  these  others,  a  product  of  aesthetic  roman- 


CONTROVERSIAL  PERIOD.  191 

ticism,  but  rather  of  that  popular  and  national 
romanticism  which  lies  at  the  base  of  the  other. 
As  we  know,  Ibsen  not  only  took  the  name  of 
Peer  Gynt,  but  various  other  details  as  well,  partly 
from  Asbjornsen  and  Moe's  "  Popular  Tales,"  and 
partly  from  Asbjornsen's  "Fairy  Tales."1  He 
especially  dwells  upon  the  fact  that  Peer  Gynts 
visionary  nature  is  to  be  accounted  for  by  the 
tales  upon  which  his  mother  brought  him  up. 
Aase  says :  — 

"  We  knew  nothing  better  than  to  forget, 
It  is  hard  for  one  to  see  things  just  as  they  are. 
Unpleasant  it  is  to  look  fate  in  the  eyes ; 
And  so  to  shake  care  from  us  endeavor  we  all, 
And  try  if  we  can  to  keep  from  thinking  at  all. 
Some  make  use  of  brandy,  and  others  of  lies, 
And  we  used  fairy  tales." 

To  the  one  who  reads  "  Peer  Gynt"  in  1888  this 
comparison  of  the  effects  of  brandy  to  those  of 
fairy  tales  does  not  appear  very  formidable,  but 
it  was  a  different  matter  twenty-one  years  ago ; 
then  it  was  like  a  blow  in  the  face  of  all  that  was 
popular  and  admired  in  our  literature. 

Peer  Gynt's  training  has  borne  fruit.  When  we 
make  his  acquaintance,  he  is  already  a  visionary, 
who,  instead  of  bestirring  himself,  goes  about 
dreaming  with  eyes  wide  open.  When  he  tells 

1  An  account,  correct  in  the  main,  of  Ibsen's  indebtedness  to 
these  sources  may  be  found  in  L.  Passarge's  "  Henrik  Ibsen." 


HENRIK  IBSEN. 

about  Gudbrand  Glesne's  ride  over  Gjendineggen 
on  a  reindeer's  back,  he  thoroughly  believes  it 
to  have  been  a  part  of  his  own  experience,  al- 
though his  notions  of  Gjendineggen  are  so  inex- 
act that  it  is  evident  he  has  never  even  seen  the 
place.  A  moment  afterwards  he  falls  into  a  revery 
inspired  by  a  wonderful  cloud,  forgetting  gossip 
and  the  wedding-guests  to  dream  himself  riding 
upon  it  as  emperor.  But  when  he  is  finally  spurred 
to  action,  his  motive  is  one  of  defiance,  the  usual 
motive  of  weak  characters.  It  is  out  of  defiance 
that  he  takes  flight  with  Ingrid,  and  the  action  is 
as  unconsidered,  as  meaningless,  and  as  fantastic  as 
any  visionary  could  desire. 

There  comes  a  moment  when  he  realizes  that 
the  life  of  action  is  better  than  the  life  of  reflec- 
tion;  it  is  when  he  is  hunted  like  a  wild  beast  by 
the  whole  village. 

"  Storm  and  tear  1  stem  the  mountain-fall ! 
Strike  I  pull  up  the  fir-tree,  roots  and  all ! 
This  is  life  I     It  can  harden  a  man  and  raise  him, 
To  hell  with  the  lies  that  perplex  and  daze  him!" 

But  this  exaltation  does  not  last  long,  and  he 
is  soon  engrossed  in  his  fancies  again,  so  deeply 
that  he  does  not  know  the  difference  between  what 
he  has  actually  done  and  what  he  has  only 
dreamed  of  doing,  but  mingles  both  confusedly 
together :  - 


CONTROVERSIAL  PERIOD.  193 

"A  lie  was  the  reindeer-ride: 
Fancy  led  me  astray. 
Nor  climbed  I  the  steep  with  the  bride, 
Nor  drunken  was  I  that  day. 
Pursued  by  the  mountain  trold, 
Pecked  at  by  birds  of  prey, 
Jeered  at  by  maidens  bold,  — 
It  was  all  a  lie,  I  say  ! " 

And  whenever  the  serious  realities  of  life  con- 
front him,  he  seeks  to  evade  them  in  the  way  that 
his  mother  taught  him;  he  takes  flight  into  his 
visionary  world  to 

"  Forget  the  perverse  and  awry, 
And  all  that  is  cruel  and  harsh." 

He  always  goes  around,  never  across ;  even  by 
his  mother's  death-bed  he  will  not  look  truth  in 
the  face,  but  carries  her  away  with  him  into  the 
realms  of  fancy.  What  a  contrast  there  is  be- 
tween Brand's  stern  but  honest  attitude  upon  the 
occasion  of  his  mother's  death,  and  the  fantastic 
way  in  which  Peer  Gynt  smooths  with  falsehood 
the  passage  of  his  mother  from  earth.  The  scene 
of  Aase's  death  was  doubtless  meant  by  Ibsen 
to  stand  in  contrast  with  the  death  of  Brand's 
mother. 

The  dual  existence  thus  led  by  Peer  Gynt  gives 
to  his  character  a  truly  romantic  indecision;  it 
makes  him  weak  and  cowardly,  an  egotist  and  a 
bungler;  it  places  an  impassable  chasm  between 


194  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

desire  and  deed,  between  the  will  to  act  and  the 
power  to  carry  out  the  impulse ;  his  motto  is  the 
characteristic :  — 

"  Ay  !  think  it,  and  wish  it,  and  will  it  as  well, — 
But  do  it  ?    No,  that  is  asking  too  much." 

Everything  that  Peer  Gynt  does  is  done  incom- 
pletely; he  never  sets  about  a  resolute  action, 
either  good  or  evil;  he  destroys  with  one  hand 
the  work  of  the  other,  and  so  is  left  ineffectual 
and  characterless,  and  must  into  the  melting-pot, 
like  every  one  who  develops,  not  into  a  personality, 
but  into  an  egotist,  —  the  caricature  of  the  indi- 
vidual, —  who  has  not  "  been  himself,"  but  merely 
"  sufficient  unto  himself."  When  we  read  "  Peer 
Gynt,"  we  think  involuntarily  of  H.  C.  Oersted's 
axiom,  "  Forget  thyself,  but  lose  it  not !  "  Peer 
Gynt's  character  is  based  upon  the  reverse  of  this 
principle;  he  has  lost  his  self,  but  has  never  for- 
gotten it. 

So  the  figure  originally  conceived  as  a  national 
type  was  gradually  transformed  into  a  figure  typi- 
cal merely  of  that  epoch  through  the  closing 
phase  of  which  Ibsen  had  lived,  and  with  which 
he  broke  forever  when  he  wrote  "  Brand "  and 
"  Peer  Gynt." 

There  are  fewer  satiric  outbursts  in  "  Peer 
Gynt"  than  in  "Brand."  In  the  first  three  acts 
we  find  nothing  of  the  sort,  except  when  a  little 


CONTROVERSIAL  PERIOD.  195 

sport  is  made  of  Norwegian  exclusiveness,  which 
is  formulated  in  the  patriotic  maxim  of  the  Old 
Man  of  the  Dovre  Fjeld :  — 

"  The  cow  gives  cake  and  the  bullock  mead, 
Whether  sweet  or  sour  you  should  not  heed ; 
From  the  principal  fact  let  your  mind  not  roam, 
It  is  brewed  at  home." 

And  similar  sport  is  made  of  the  would-be  re- 
formers of  the  Norwegian  language  when,  in  the 
scene  of  the  madhouse  at  Cairo,  Huhu  discourses 
of  the  language  of  the  orang-utan.  The  two  other 
madmen  who  appear  upon  this  occasion  are  also 
intended  to  be  taken  satirically,  but  the  allusions 
are  so  veiled  that  they  will  hardly  be  seen  unless 
pointed  out  The  fellah  with  the  royal  mummy 
on  his  back  is, —  like  Trumpeterstraale,  —  a  hit  at 
the  Swedes,  and  the  mummy  is  Charles  the  Twelfth. 
The  Swedes,  like  the  fellah,  are  very  proud  of 
their  "  hero-king,"  although  during  the  war  be- 
tween Denmark  and  Germany  they'  gave  no  evi- 
dence of  having  anything  in  common  with  him,  — 
unless  it  be  that  they,  like  the  mummy  upon  this 
occasion,  "  remained  quite  dead."  The  minister 
Hussein,  who  suffers  under  the  illusion  that  he 
is  a  pen,  stands  for  the  whole  system  of  diplo- 
matic notes  and  protocols,  called  forth,  during 
the  war,  from  the  Kingdom  of  Sweden  and  Nor- 
way, and  especially  for  a  prominent  Swedish 


196  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

statesman,  who  was  very  proud  of  the  notes 
which  he  wrote  during  the  progress  of  the  war, 
and  who  fancied  them  to  have  exerted  a  marked 
influence  over  the  course  of  events. 

But  general  poetical  and  psychological  consid- 
erations, rather  than  a  definite  satirical  purpose, 
were  the  author's  leading  motives  during  the  com- 
position of  "  Peer  Gynt,"  so  that  his  hero  is  not 
only  a  characteristic  figure  from  one  of  the  transi- 
tion periods  in  the  history  of  this  century,  but  a 
type  having  a  significance  for  other  countries  than 
those  of  the  North,  and  it  consequently  has  —  in  spite 
of  its  local  color — been  understood  by  foreigners 
and  aroused  their  admiration.  Passarge,  for  ex- 
ample, who  has  translated  the  poem  into  German, 
writes  of  it  as  follows :  "  '  Peer  Gynt '  is,  like  every 
great  poem,  a  picture  of  man,  struggling,  erring 
ever,  seeking  for  deliverance.  It  ranks  with  the 
'  Odyssey,'  the  '  Divine  Comedy,'  '  Don  Quijote,' 
and  '  Faust.'  .  .  .  '  Peer  Gynt,'  despite  all  its 
faults,  is  the  poem  which  bears  most  distinctly 
upon  its  forehead  the  mark  of  our  age,  and  the 
time  will  come  when  not  only  will  many  commen- 
taries be  written  upon  it,  to  illuminate  it  as  a 
whole  and  in  its  details,  —  many  of  them  merely 
ephemeral  allusions, — but  when  it  will  be  looked 
upon  as  a  truthful  reflection  of  this  century,  and 
again  and  again  attract  the  admiration  of  mankind." 


CONTROVERSIAL  PERIOD.  197 

After  the  performance  of  this  magnificent  over- 
ture the  curtain  rose  in  1869  upon  the  first  com- 
edy of  modern  life  in  Norwegian  literature.  Ibsen 
had  already  made  an  essay  in  this  direction  with 
"  Love's  Comedy,"  but  his  indignation  was  then 
too  strong,  and  his  visual  angle  embraced  only  the 
controversial,  not  the  comic ;  he  scourged  his 
characters  instead  of  holding  them  up  to  ridicule. 
In  "  Brand  "  his  indignation  had  risen  still  higher, 
and  his  pen  had  been  almost  wholly  devoted  to 
controversy.  In  "  Peer  Gynt "  the  waves  began 
to  subside,  and  when  "  The  Young  Men's  Union  " 
was  written  in  the  winter  of  1868—69,  his  mind  had 
grown  so  calm  that  he  was  free  to  laugh  at  the 
types  and  conditions  that  were  the  objects  of  his 
satire. 

When  Ibsen  regarded  the  political  situation  at 
home,  after  an  absence  of  four  years,  his  impres- 
sion cannot  have  been  exactly  favorable.  The 
relations  between  the  two  parties  must  have 
seemed  easy-going  enough  ;  there  was  not  then  as 
wide  a  gulf  as  afterwards  between  Right  and  Left; 
there  were  then  no  strongly  contrasted  views  of 
life,  but  merely  different  attitudes  towards  one  or 
two  of  the  political  questions  upon  which  people 
are  commonly  divided.  The  division  might  be 
sharp  at  times,  but  it  was  not  dangerous  ;  it  was 
hardly  a  question  of  life  and  death  in  the  sixties, 


198  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

as  it  was  in  the  beginning  of  the  eighties.  An 
outsider  might  easily  have  viewed  the  situation  as 
a  squabble  between  those  in  power  and  those  who 
wished  to  be,  and  there  was  nothing  in  such  a 
squabble  to  fire  a  poet  like  Ibsen  ;  he  must  have 
felt  tolerably  indifferent  as  to  the  outcome,  and 
could  have  said  with  Daniel  Hejre:  "  It  is  all  one 
to  me  whether  the  dog  eat  the  pig  or  the  pig  the 
dog."  So  Ibsen  stood  in  a  free  and  unembarrassed 
relation  to  the  contrasting  conditions  which  he 
pictured,  and  might  swing  the  lash  in  either  direc- 
tion, as  vigorously  as  he  pleased.  Lundestad  and 
Chamberlain  Bratsberg  were  spared  as  little  as 
Stensgaard  and  land-owner  Monsen.  The  cham- 
berlain was  depicted  as  an  old  aristocrat,  without 
the  slightest  comprehension  of  the  age  in  which  he 
lived,  and  Lundestad  as  a  crafty  rogue,  willing  to 
resort  to  any  means  that  would  further  his  ends 
without  bringing  him  into  conflict  with  the  law. 
Stensgaard  and  Monsen  were  represented  as  ad- 
venturers seeking  to  rise,  —  the  one  a  swindler,  the 
other  a  phrase-monger.  Not  one  of  them  all  is 
actuated  by  higher  than  private  interests. 

Stensgaard  is  a  typical  figure  of  the  sixties  ;  his 
language  is  the  jargon  of  the  average  liberal  poli- 
tician of  that  period.  The  liberal  party  was  then 
based  upon  a  sort  of  romantic  nationalism ;  its 
speech  was  a  mixture  of  Johan  Sverdrupian 


CONTROVERSIAL  PERIOD.  199 

phrases,  Bjornsonian  turns  and  figures,  and  Grundt- 
vigian  sentiment.  Bjornson,  in  particular,  had 
many  admirers  who  attempted  to  copy  his  original 
style ;  but  that  which  was  characteristic  and  in- 
teresting in  the  model  became  parody  and  carica- 
ture in  the  imitation  of  his  not  over-brilliant 
followers.  Such  an  imitator  Ibsen  pictured  in 
Stensgaard,  and  he  has  caught  the  trick  with  in- 
comparable accuracy. 

Stensgaard  has  both  egotism  and  vacillation  in 
common  with  Peer  Gynt.  "  A  repulsive  home 
life,  a  public  school  education,  soul,  character, 
will,  endowment,  —  each  resulting  in  its  own  pecu- 
liar tendency,  —  how  could  these  diverse  influ- 
ences fail  to  develop  a  discordant  personality?" 
says  Fjeldbo,  speaking  of  him.  His  school  train- 
ing has  developed  in  him  an  impressionable  but 
unfeeling  disposition,  and  given  him  the  power  of 
facile  expression.  His  home  life  has  stunted  the 
growth  of  his  character.  The  father's  tendency  to 
vegetate  is  responsible  for  the  son's  ever  unsatis- 
fied desire  for  enjoyment.  The  mother's  simplicity, 
and  the  dishonorable  character  of  her  occupation 
have  also  left  their  mark.  The  pawnbroker's  son 
is  entirely  without  the  sense  of  honor ;  he  has  no 
self-respect,  no  manly  feeling.  He  has  a  quick 
mind,  but  his  intelligence  is  not  developed ;  he  has 
not  learned  to  know  himself;  he  is  governed  by 


200  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

his  moods,  and  has  never  learned  to  examine  into 
his  own  conduct.  Self-criticism,  in  consequence, 
counts  for  nothing  with  him,  and  he  believes  in  the 
absolute  validity  of  everything  he  feels,  says,  and 
does.  He  is  carried  away  by  his  own  words,  and 
is  ruled  by  phrases;  in  fact,  this  blind  faith  in 
words  sums  up  his  whole  character.  When  he 
conceals  his  self-interestedness  with  fine  phrases 
he  carries  with  him  all  who  are  as  destitute  of  the 
critical  faculty  as  he  himself,  and,  blind  to  his  own 
faults,  he  fails  to  perceive  his  selfishness  in  its 
nakedness.  It  is  thus  natural  that  he  should  feel 
shocked  at  the  conduct  of  others,  although  his 
own  conduct  has  been  quite  similar.  Remember 
what  he  says  to  Bastian,  when  the  latter  speaks  of 
paying  court  to  Madam  Rundholmen.  He  mis- 
leads others,  because  he  first  of  all  misleads 
himself. 

And  to  these  characteristics  he  adds  a  bound- 
less self-confidence.  He  worships  himself,  and 
seeks  to  win  as  high  a  place  in  the  esteem  of 
others  as  he  has  in  his  own.  A  true  parvenu,  he 
is  both  vain  and  reckless,  respecting  nothing  ex- 
cept what  he  calls  his  aim. 

His  glibness  and  his  recklessness,  his  ambition 
and  his  self-confidence,  his  lack  of  introspective 
power  and  his  dwarfed  moral  sense,  all  make  of 
him  a  dangerous  man,  likely  to  create  much  dis- 


CONTROVERSIAL  PERIOD.  2OI 

turbance  in  seeking  to  attain  his  ends.  But,  for- 
tunately, he  has  two  characteristics  which  make 
him  far  less  dangerous  than  he  otherwise  would 
be.  It  is  easy  to  see  through  him,  and  he  blurts 
out  his  views  upon  all  occasions.  The  art  of  dis- 
simulation calls  for  more  developed  powers  of 
reflection  than  are  his.  He  is,  besides,  too  self- 
confident  to  think  that  others  may  possibly  not 
mean  what  they  say,  and  he  believes  in  their 
phrases  quite  as  unreservedly  as  he  believes  in 
his  own.  How  should  he  see  through  the  speech 
of  others,  when  he  cannot  even  see  through  his 
own?  This  is  the  standpoint  from  which  we  must 
view  him ;  a  fact  clearly  perceived  by  Lundestad, 
who  so  easily  leads  him  by  the  nose,  and  causes 
him  so  completely  to  prostitute  himself. 

"  The  Young  Men's  Union  "  is  a  modern  comedy 
of  character  of  high  rank;  even  the  minor  figures 
have  the  stamp  of  a  reality  at  that  time  without 
parallel  in  our  literature.  Formally  considered, 
also,  "  The  Young  Men's  Union  "  was  an  epoch- 
making  work.  The  tone  of  modern  conversation 
which  Ibsen  had  vainly  sought  to  reproduce  in 
"  Love's  Comedy,"  is  given  here  in  masterly 
fashion.  The  dialogue  is  not  written,  it  is  spoken ; 
there  is  gossip,  twaddle,  scolding,  and  wrangling, 
just  as  there  is  in  every-day  life.  Even  the  slipshod 
manner  of  conversation  is  copied.  When  Fjeldbo, 


202  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

for  example,  says :  "  Premiums.  Put  them  to  the 
ear  and  you  will  see  more  distinctly  another  time," 
we  notice  the  slip  of  style  at  once,  but  people 
speak  thus  in  ordinary  conversation. 

It  goes  almost  without  saying  that  a  work  like 
this  was  bound  to  be  misunderstood  by  the  public  ; 
it  introduced  a  new  manner  into  literature,  and 
came  so  unexpectedly,  and  as  such  a  surprise,  that 
the  proper  point  of  view  was  generally  missed. 
It  represented  a  new  relation  to  actual  life,  it  took 
a  closer  grasp  of  actuality  than  any  previous  work 
had  taken ;  and  since  at  the  same  time  it  dealt 
with  the  representatives  of  political  parties,  it  was 
thought  that  Ibsen  had  portrayed  individual  poli- 
ticians, and  attempts  were  made  to  point  out  the 
originals.  No  one  seemed  to  feel  that  this  mode 
of  procedure  tended  to  degrade  a  remarkable  im- 
aginative work  to  the  level  of  a  political  pamphlet. 
Those  who  could  not  agree  upon  the  details  were 
still  unanimous  in  viewing  the  piece  as  a  partisan 
document.  To  ridicule  a  liberal  politician  was 
equivalent  to  ridiculing  liberalism  in  general.  In 
the  first  heat  of  partisan  fanaticism  the  fact  was 
unperceived  that  the  piece  lashed  both  parties 
alike.  A  writer  in  "  Aftenbladet "  said  that  "  the 
poem  was  written  from  a  one-sided,  partisan  stand- 
point; "  and  when  this  notion  found  currency,  it  was 
easy  to  stand  forth  as  the  champion  of  poetry,  and 


CONTROVERSIAL  PERIOD.  203 

have  at  the  author  in  its  name.  The  same  writer 
in  "  Aftenbladet,"  Kristian  Elster,  accused  Ibsen  of 
having  "  broken  with  his  own  past,  of  having  for- 
saken that  which  he  had  before  exalted,  of  forsak- 
ing his  ideals  and  denying  the  spirit  of  poetry,  of 
celebrating  the  triumph  of  provincialism,  and  of 
taking  the  average  man  for  a  model."  According 
to  him,  Selma's  outburst  in  the  third  act  marked 
"  the  only  moment  in  the  action  when  the  fresh 
air  is  permitted  to  enter,  and  when  we  do  not 
breath  the  poisonous  atmosphere  of  base  passion 
and  diluted  morality."  Even  persons  of  more 
consequence  fell  into  the  same  misconception.  At 
the  beginning  of  Bjornson's  well-known  poem  to 
Johan  Sverdrup,  there  is  an  express  allusion  to 
"The  Young  Men's  Union  "  in  the  lines: — 

"  Because  thy  mighty  name  my  song 
Shall  bear,  thou  yet  wert  wholly  wrong 
To  think  that  onslaught  it  recalls  ; 
I  do  not  mingle  in  such  brawls 

If  poesy's  sacred  grove  be  made 
The  assassin's  hiding  place,  if  this 
The  new  poetic  fashion  is, 

Then  I  for  one  renounce  its  sliade." 

By  the  conservative  party  the  piece  was  received 
with  more  satisfaction,  but  with  no  clearer  compre- 
hension ;  the  manner  in  which  it  treated  conserva- 
tism was  ignored,  and  the  piece  was  regarded 
merely  as  a  contribution  to  the  political  struggle. 


2O4  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

In  other  words,  the  party-feeling  of  the  Nor- 
wegian public  was  aroused  by  "  The  Young 
Men's  Union."  Such  excitement  rarely  passes 
off  quietly,  and  so,  when  the  piece  was  produced 
at  the  Christiania  theatre,  it  created  a  violent 
disturbance.  Amid  the  wild  music  of  hisses  and 
applause,  of  whistling  and  "  bravo "  shouting, 
the  first  Norwegian  comedy  of  modern  life  was 
ushered  upon  Norway's  leading  stage. 

On  Monday,  October  18,  1869,  the  piece  was 
produced  for  the  first  time.  A  portion  of  the 
audience  gave  expression  to  its  approval,  while 
the  rest,  by  hissing  very  vigorously,  protested 
against  this  approval.  The  battle  raged  strll  more 
fiercely  upon  the  occasion  of  the  second  per- 
formance, October  20.  With  the  opening  words 
(Lundestad's  i/th  of  May  speech)  a  loud  whistling 
began,  which  evoked,  on  the  other  hand,  a  zealous 
demonstration  on  the  part  of  the  author's  self- 
constituted  champions.  The  struggle  between 
hand-clappers  and  whistlers  lasted  for  several 
minutes,  then  the  curtain  was  lowered,  and  the 
stage-manager  stepped  forward,  asking  the  audi- 
ence if  it  desired  the  play  to  go  on,  and,  in  case 
it  did,  requesting  silence.  The  play  was  then 
uninterruptedly  proceeded  with  as*  far  as  Bastian 
Monsen's  lines  in  the  fourth  act,  about  "  the  peo- 
ple; they  who  possess  nothing  and  are  nothing; 


CONTROVERSIAL  PERIOD.  205 

they  who  lie  in  bonds."  Then  the  storm  burst 
forth  again,  and  raged  intermittently  until  the  fall 
of  the  curtain  upon  the  closing  act.  Not  until 
the  lights  were  turned  out  did  the  disturbance 
cease  within  the  walls  of  the  theatre,  and  it  was 
kept  up  for  a  while  outside,  in  the  corridors  and 
even  in  the  street  Upon  the  third  performance, 
given  to  a  house  so  closely  packed  that  seats  were 
placed  in  the  space  reserved  for  the  orchestra, 
the  battle  was  renewed ;  but  from  the  fourth  per- 
formance onward,  peace  and  order  were  restored. 
Ibsen  was  then  in  Egypt,  a  guest  of  the  Khe- 
dive at  the  opening  of  the  Suez  canal.  Here  he 
learned  of  the  reception  that  had  been  given  his 
play,  and  has  himself  expressed  indignation  that 
it  should  have  been  dragged  into  the  political 
contentions  of  the  day.  The  news  aroused  in 
him  a  mood  which  afterwards  found  expression 
in  the  little  poem  "At  Port  Said." 

"  The  Orient  sun 
O'er  the  sea  was  cast ; 
All  the  flags  of  the  globe 
Streamed  from  the  mast 
While  the  wings  of  music 
The  choral  bore. 
The  canal  was  baptized 
'Mid  the  cannon's  roar. 

0  Past  the  obelisk 
The  steamer  sped, 


206  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

While  the  news  in  the  language 

Of  home  I  read, 

That  my  poem-mirror, 

Polished  for  men, 

Had  been  greeted  with  hisses, 

And  tarnished  again. 

"  The  hornet  stung, 
And  hurt  for  a  space. 
Stars,  be  thanked  I 
'T  is  the  same  old  place. 
We  greeted  the  frigate, 
As  past  we  sailed ; 
And,  waving  my  hat, 
The  flag  I  hailed." 


V. 


REST  AND    RETROSPECT. 

TOURING  the  composition  of  the  three  works 
*~J  just  discussed,  a  great  change  occurred  in 
Ibsen's  situation.  A  long-delayed  popularity  was 
at  last  accorded  him  in  rich  measure.  "  Brand  " 
made  him  famous  at  once,  one  edition  after  an- 
other being  demanded;  and  since,  in  the  house 
of  Gyldendal,  he  had  found  more  liberal  pub- 
lishers than  those  who  had  previously  undertaken 
the  issue  of  his  works,  his  financial  condition  was 
greatly  improved. 

In  addition  to  this,  the  Storthing  of  1866  had 
granted  him  the  "  poet's  salary,"  which  he  had  in 
vain  demanded  of  its  predecessor.  This  was  not, 

14 


208  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

however,  granted  without  some  difficulty,  for  State 
Councillor  Riddervold  obstinately  opposed  it,  de- 
claring that  he,  as  the  representative  of  the  church, 
could  not  approve  of  a  poet's  salary  for  the  man 
who  had  written  "  Love's  Comedy,"  and  who,  in 
his  delineation  of  Pastor  Straamand,  had  dealt 
such  hard  blows  to  Norwegian,  ecclesiasticism.  A 
Danish  biographer  of  1867  relate,  that  Bjornson 
went  to  the  State  Councillor,  and  endeavored  to 
bring  him  to  reason,  but  unsuccessfully.  Then  a 
number  of  Ibsen's  friends  took  hold  of  the  matter, 
and  were  more  fortunate.  The  grant  was  recom- 
mended, and  the  Storthing  gave  its  approval  with 
but  four  dissenting  votes. 

When  Ibsen  left  Norway,  it  had  been  his  inten- 
tion to  return,  and  his  position  as  artistic  adviser 
of  the  Christiania  theatre  was  kept  open  and  wait- 
ing for  him.  But,  once  away  from  his  country,  he 
felt  that  he  could  never  return  to  it  for  good.  The 
"  poet's  salary "  and  the  large  returns  from  his 
works  placed  him  in  a  position  to  remain  abroad, 
but  in  1868  he  left  Rome  for  Dresden.  In  the 
summer  of  1869  he  made  a  visit  to  Stockholm, 
and  in  the  following  summer  to  Copenhagen ;  in 
both  cities  he  was  received  with  the  greatest  re- 
spect, and  even  in  Norway  public  opinion  sang  to 
a  new  tune.  When,  in  1874,  after  ten  years  of 
absence,  he  made  a  visit  to  his  former  home,  he 


REST  AND  RETROSPECT.  2CX) 

was  received  with  no  end  of  ovations.  The  stu- 
dents organized  a  procession  and  marched  to  his 
dwelling,  while  his  presence  in  the  theatre,  at  a 
performance  of  "  The  Young  Men's  Union,"  was 
the  occasion  of  vociferous  applause  from  a  crowded 
house.  He  had  at  last  won  the  recognition  that  was 
due  him. 

Under  these  altered  conditions  he  felt  the  need 
of  settling  up  his  literary  accounts.  After  sending 
home  "  Brand,"  "  Peer  Gynt,"  and  "  The  Young 
Men's  Union,"  one  after  the  other,  there  super- 
venes in  his  life  a  period  given  to  rest  and  retro- 
spect. He  is  no  longer  busied  with  new  works, 
but  with  the  revision  of  the  old  ones.  "  Emperor 
and  Galilean,"  the  one  new  work  published  during 
these  years,  is  but  the  completion  of  a  sketch  that 
had  occupied  him  in  the  period  immediately  fol- 
lowing upon  his  arrival  in  Rome.  Then  he  is  busy 
recasting  the  works  written  before.  The  Norwegian 
editions  of  his  earlier  works  had  become  gradually 
exhausted,  and  he  was  now  called  upon  to  decide 
what  portions  of  those  works  should  be  introduced 
to  the  large  audience  he  had  won.  His  severe  self- 
criticism  naturally  had  much  to  say  upon  this  occa- 
sion. Three  of  his  youthful  dramatic  works  and  a 
considerable  number  of  poems  were  not  repub- 
lished  at  all;  "The  Feast  at  Solhaug"  was  with- 
held for  a  number  of  years,  while  "  Catilina  "  and 


21O  HENRI K  IBSEN. 

"  Fru  Inger  of  Oestraat  "  underwent  a  fundamental 
transformation. 

The  double  drama  of  "  Emperor  and  Galilean  " 
is  Ibsen's  most  extensive  work ;  even  the  two  parts 
taken  separately  are  among  his  most  voluminous 
productions.  "  Caesar's  Apostasy  "  is  as  long  as 
"The  Pretenders,"  and  "  Emperor  Julian  "  of  about 
the  length  of  "  Brand."  The  original  plan  of  the 
work  probably  contemplated  a  general  historical 
drama  having  Julian  as  its  principal  character,  but 
the  plan  gradually  grew  in  dimensions,  especially 
after  the  work  was  seriously  resumed  in  1872; 
strata  of  new  material  were  superimposed  upon 
the  old  ones;  new  aspects  of  the  question  and 
new  poetical  ideas  asserted  themselves ;  and  so  the 
work  gradually  grew  into  its  present  colossal  propor- 
tions. At  some  future  time  it  will  be  interesting  to 
investigate  the  structure  of  this  work,  to  separate 
the  various  layers,  indicate  the  original  substratum, 
and  follow  the  scheme  of  the  drama  in  its  growth. 

"  Emperor  and  Galilean "  has  an  interesting 
position  among  Ibsen's  works.  It  is  the  last  of 
his  historical  dramas,  and  stands,  in  its  final  form, 
with  all  its  mysticism,  midway  between  two  such 
delineations  of  modern  life  as  "  The  Young  Men's 
Union  "  and  "  The  Pillars  of  Society."  And  it  has 
still  greater  interest  as  marking  a  stage  in  the  de- 
velopment of  Ibsen's  view  of  life. 


REST  AND  RETROSPECT.  211 

As  I  have  already  pointed  out,  Ibsen's  earlier 
historical  dramas  —  with  one  or  two  minor  excep- 
tions —  touch  upon  "  calling."  In  the  last  of 
them,  "  The  Pretenders,"  vocation  or  non-vocation 
was  the  central  theme  of  the  action.  In  that  play, 
one's  calling  was  treated  as  a  gift  from  above,  fall- 
ing upon  the  elect  as  the  apple  fell  into  Aladdin's 
turban.  In  "  Brand  "  the  conception  was  different, 
but  no  less  mystical ;  there  it  was  a  sort  of  cate- 
gorical imperative,  guiding  mankind  from  on  high, 
-  it  was  theirs  to  be  as  "  the  tablet  upon  which 
God  may  write."  In  "  Peer  Gynt,"  one's  calling 
was  declared  that  of  "  being  one's  self,"  but  this 
was  a  more  mystical  conception  than  one  might 
suppose,  and  was  explained  as  being  the  obliga- 
tion "  to  bear  the  Master's  purpose  as  a  sign." 
One  might  be  himself  in  two  ways,  as  a  coat  may 
be  "  right  side  or  wrong  side  out  "  :  — 

"You  know,  they  have  lately  discovered  in  Paris 
How  portraits  to  make  with  the  aid  of  the  sun. 
They  can  either  the  image  directly  give, 
Or  else  the  so-called  negative. 
In  the  latter  are  shadow  and  light  reversed, 
And  wholly  unlike  they  appear  at  first; 
But  in  them  the  likeness  does  really  inhere, 
And  it  only  needs  to  be  made  to  appear." 

This  latter  thought  appears  in  a  new  light  in 
"  Emperor  and  Galilean,"  where  it  has  assumed 
a  fatalist  character.  The  calling  is  here  neither 


2  1 2  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

a  gift  nor  a  categorical  imperative ;  it  is  a  neces- 
sity; the  word  is  no  longer  "  thou  shalt,"  but 
"  thou  must."  "  To  will  is  to  be  under  the  ne- 
cessity of  willing." 

Julian's  calling  is  to  establish  the  kingdom,  and 
the  kingdom  to  be  established  by  him  is  that  of 
the  Galilean ;  for  this  the  World-Will  has  marked 
him  out,  and  thus  he  is  in  bonds  to  necessity. 
But  he  may  establish  this  kingdom  either  posi- 
tively or  negatively;  as  a  child  he  has  already 
displayed  a  singular  faculty  for  winning  hearts 
to  the  Galileans;  by  the  graves  of  the  martyrs 
he  has  spoken  to  the  youth  of  his  own  age,  and 
converted  them  to  Christianity.  But  later  he  mis- 
takes his  calling;  he  conceives  of  the  kingdom 
as  a  temporal  empire,  not  as  the  spiritual  realm 
of  the  Galileans,  and  so  he  becomes  engaged 
in  a  life  and  death  struggle  with  the  very  king- 
dom which  it  is  his  to  establish.  Nevertheless 
the  task  is  to  be  accomplished  by  his  agency. 
The  very  oppressions  and  persecutions  that  fall 
upon  the  Christians  arouse  them  from  the  apathy 
and  sloth  into  which  they  have  fallen;  even  the 
weak  and  the  infirm  take  courage  to  confess  Christ 
and  suffer  for  his  faith;  and  when  at  last  Julian 
falls,  he  has  accomplished  his  appointed  task  in 
the  establishment  of  Christianity,  since,  where 
apathy  and  dissension  formerly  ruled,  he  now 


REST  AND  RETROSPECT.  213 

leaves  behind  him  a  powerful  and  united  body 
of  believers.  There  is,  as  we  may  see,  both 
mysticism  and  fatalism  in  this  conception  of  call- 
ing; and  the  development  of  the  idea  is,  in  a  man- 
ner, completed,  for  no  return  can  be  made  from 
the  point  of  fatalism,  while  mysticism  must  dis- 
appear to  make  place  for  the  purely  natural  con- 
ception of  calling.  In  the  work  of  Ibsen  immedi- 
ately preceding,  it  had  indeed  disappeared,  which 
provides  new  evidence  of  the  fact  that  "  Emperor 
and  Galilean "  dates,  in  its  original  idea,  from 
an  earlier  period.  In  "  The  Young  Men's  Union," 
the  mystical  idea  of  calling  appears  as  a  mere 
phrase.  Stensgaard  has  no  less  faith  in  his  calling 
than  Haakon,  and  is  quite  as  certain  of  having 
entered  into  a  pact  with  Providence.  "  Thus  hath 
God  commanded,"  he  says.  "  Ay,  he,  for  it  is  to 
accomplish  his  purposes  that  we  go  confidently 
upon  our  way."  That  which  has  previously  been 
sublime,  here  becomes  merely  amusing  wordiness. 
Ibsen's  mode  of  thought  places  sacrifice  in  a 
close  relation  with  calling.  The  latter  demands 
a  willingness  to  renounce,  to  sacrifice  one's  per- 
sonal inclination.  To  "  be  one's  self"  is,  then,  in 
absolute  contrast  to  "  being  self-sufficient;"  it  is, 
indeed,  "  to  slay  self."  Lordship  over  self,  in  re- 
nunciation and  in  sacrifice  for  the  love  of  others, 
is  man's  principal  obligation.  Ibsen  carries  this 


214  HE  If  R  IK  IBSEN. 

idea  so  far  as  to  glorify  sacrifice  for  its  own 
sake.  This  feeling  was  very  evident  in  "  Brand," 
and  it  reappears  in  "  Emperor  and  Galilean  "  as 
a  glorification  of  the  sufferings  of  the  martyrs. 
From  the  standpoint  of  modern  ethics,  the  martyr 
is  deserving  of  admiration  only  when  he  sacri- 
fices himself  for  the  good  of  others;  for  Ibsen, 
on  the  other  hand,  the  elevating  and  ennobling 
power  of  sacrifice  is  so  great  that  it  is  valuable 
on  its  own  account.  When  the  Christians  in 
"  Emperor  Julian  "  tear  open  their  wounds  with 
their  own  hands,  or  cut  their  own  flesh  to  cast 
the  pieces  at  Julian's  feet,  this  is  not  given  as 
evidence  of  the  desperate  deeds  to  which  fanati- 
cism may  lead  mankind,  but  as  a  measure  of  the 
depth  and  force  of  the  enthusiasm  that  their 
faith  is  able  to  inspire.  It  is  the  proof  that,  at 
this  historical  crisis,  the  faith  is  vital  and  has 
right  upon  its  side;  while  the  view  of  life  for 
which  Julian  battles  shows  itself  to  be  outworn 
by  the  very  fact  that  it  cannot  lead  men  to  mar- 
tyrdom. The  cause  for  which  no  one  is  ready 
to  sacrifice  everything  is  doomed.  So  "Emperor 
and  Galilean "  represents,  viewed  in  this  light, 
one  of  the  highest  points  to  which  Ibsen's  ideal- 
ism attains.  In  his  later  works,  the  conception 
of  sacrifice  appears  in  a  far  more  sober  and 
practical  form. 


REST  AND  RETROSPECT.  215 

Poetically  considered,  "  Emperor  and  Galilean  " 
does  not  take  the  highest  rank  among  Ibsen's 
works.  We  feel  while  reading  it  that  the  long 
period  elapsing  between  the  time  when  it  was 
first  planned  and  the  time  of  its  final  execution 
has  prevented  the  material  from  being  properly 
woven  together  into  a  concrete  whole.  It  is 
noticeable,  for  example,  that  Julian  is  a  very  dif- 
ferent and  far  more  interesting  character  in 
"  Caesar's  Apostasy  "  than  in  "  Emperor  Julian." 
We  must  indeed  admit  that  the  characteristics 
developed  in  him  as  emperor  are  suggested  while 
he  is  yet  a  youth  and  a  Caesar,  but  it  is  none 
the  less  surprising  that  his  failings  become  so 
much  more  prominent  upon  his  accession  to  the 
imperial  throne.  In  "  Caesar's  Apostasy  "  he  has 
the  complete  sympathy  of  the  reader.  His  is  a 
fresh  nature  from  the  first,  honestly  seeking  after 
the  truth,  and  striving  to  lead  a  full  and  rich 
existence,  preferring  life  to  books  and  truth  to 
phrases.  He  is  indeed  a  trifle  vain,  and  he  has 
early  learned  to  dissimulate,  but  these  character- 
istics may  be  forgiven  in  him  on  account  of  the 
difficulty  of  his  position.  Even  when  he  craftily 
causes  himself  to  be  acclaimed  as  emperor,  he 
does  not  forfeit  our  sympathy,  for  it  is  done  in 
simple  self-defence.  As  commander  in  Gaul,  he 
has  developed  an  admirable  quickness,  energy, 


2  1 6  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

and  ability  to  act;  and  when  he  finally  separates 
himself  from  the  Galileans,  it  is  because  he  can 
no  longer  stand  the  hypocrisy,  the  dishonesty, 
and  the  meanness  that  he  has  seen  among  the 
Christians. 

But  in  "  Emperor  Julian "  he  appears  trans 
formed;  he  who  desired  life  is  now  satisfied  with 
books;  from  a  man  of  action  he  has  grown  a 
vain  literary  pedant,  content  with  the  outward 
shell  and  never  reaching  the  kernel;  so  that  the 
citizens  of  Antioch  are  quite  justified  in  making 
sport  of  him.  He  no  longer  bears  the  tragic 
stamp,  and  sinks  below  his  former  plane  only 
to  rise  again  at  the  very  end.  Like  Catiline,  Fru 
Inger,  and  Hjordis,  his  tragic  fate  drives  him 
first  to  madness  and  then  to  death. 

As  the  representative  of  the  great  civilization  of 
the  ancients  we  would  gladly  accord  him  more 
significance  than  Ibsen  has;  and  this  remark  ap- 
plies with  still  greater  force  to  the  lesser  repre- 
sentatives of  ancient  culture  who  figure  in  the 
play.  Admit  that  that  civilization  was  outworn ; 
admit  that  it  was  falling  into  decay;  even  in  its 
decline  it  was  capable  of  producing  nobler  char- 
acters than  Libanios  and  his  compeers.  But  in 
this,  as  in  all  other  cases  where  Ibsen  has  dealt 
with  historical  transitions  from  old  to  new,  he  is 
unreservedly  on  the  side  of  the  new.  This  was 


REST  AND  RETROSPECT.  2I/ 

his  position  both  in  "  The  Pretenders "  and  in 
the  poem  written  for  Norway's  millennial  cele- 
bration, when  he  glorified  the  deeds  of  Harald 
Haarfager  at  the  expense  of  the  liberty-loving 
heroes  of  old. 

The  style  of  "  Emperor  and  Galilean  "  is  an  in- 
teresting attempt  to  reproduce  the  character  of  a 
definite  period  in  literary  form.  It  is  the  style  of 
later  antiquity,  with  its  circuitousness  and  its 
artistic  turns,  that  the  author  has  sought  to  re- 
produce; the  Latin  mainly,  although  to  a  certain 
extent  the  Greek  also,  seems  to  have  served  him 
as  a  model.  This  style  gives  a  strong  historical 
coloring  to  the  work. 

It  need  hardly  be  stated  that  Ibsen's  style  un- 
derwent a  marked  development,  and  that  his  ideals 
in  this  matter  became  modified  in  the  course  of 
years.  Three  well-defined  stages  of  this  develop- 
ment may  be  pointed  out. 

In  his  youthful  poetry  the  style  is  determined 
by  feeling.  Then  follows  "a  period,  beginning  with 
"  The  Chieftains,"  during  which  he  endeavored  to 
impress  the  stamp  of  nationality  strongly  upon  his 
style.  A  trifling  anecdote  throws  some  light  upon 
this  period.  At  a  sort  of  charity  fair  in  Christiania 
a  series  of  tableaux  were  to  be  given,  accompanied 
by  recitations.  Ibsen  was  called  upon  to  write 
one  of  these  poems,  and  Wilhelm  Wiehe  to  recite 


218  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

it.  When  it  came  to  the  point,  Wiehe  declared 
that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  recite  the  text 
that  Ibsen  had  furnished;  its  language  was  too 
distinctly  Norwegian  to  be  spoken  by  a  Danish 
actor  in  the  presence  of  a  Norwegian  audience. 
Even  Fru  Gundersen  —  who  was  then  Froken 
Svendson —  declared  that  she  found  it  difficult  to 
recite  the  poem.  She  had  been  trained  upon  the 
Danish  stage  at  the  capital,  and  this  environment 
had  given  her  language  a  character  which  made 
Ibsen's  ultra-Norwegian  speech  strange  to  her. 
Perspicuity  is  the  characteristic  of  Ibsen's  style  in 
the  third  period  of  its  development,  and  it  was 
with  this  in  view  that  he  went  to  work,  in  the  first 
half  of  the  seventies,  to  revise  his  early  writings. 
He  found  the  emotional  style  of  his  youth  too 
vague  and  general,  and  his  revision  consisted 
partly  in  adding  force  to  it  by  concentration  and 
condensation,  partly  in  brightening  it  with  new 
and  picturesque  words  and  images,  in  place  of 
the  vague  ones  previously  used. 

In  "  Catilina,"  which  was  published  as  a  sort  of 
jubilee  volume  twenty-five  years  after  the  appear- 
ance of  the  first  edition,  few  verses  have  been  left 
without  alteration.  Since  examples  are  more  in- 
structive than  general  observations,  I  will  here 
give  the  original  form  of  some  of  the  passages 
previously  quoted  from  the  second  edition.  The 


REST  AND  RETROSPECT. 

passage  in  which  Catiline  declares  his  object  to  be 
the  furtherance  of  civil  liberty  (page  42),  stood 
originally  as  follows :  — 

"  For  freedom,  freedom  't  is  that  I  would  shape, 
As  pure  as  in  a  vanished  past  it  once 
Did  blossom  here,  —  I  would  call  back  again 
The  time  when  every  Roman  with  his  life 
Was  glad  to  buy  the  fatherland's  renown, 
And  offered  all,  its  splendor  to  protect" 

What  Catiline  says  of  shining  like  a  fallen  star 
(page  44),  has  the  following  form  in  the  first 
edition:  — 

"  No  —  for  a  single  moment  to  shine  out — 
And  brightly  flaming  as  a  meteor, 
With  but  one  noble  deed  to  consecrate 
My  name  to  fame,  to  immortality, 
Ha  !  then  could  I  in  that  selfsame  hour 
Take  leave  of  life,  —  for  then  I  should  have  lived ; 
I  could  take  flight  unto  an  unknown  shore, 
I  could  the  dagger  plunge  into  my  heart." 

And  Furia's  outburst  (page  48)  appears  in 
these  words :  - 

"  How  empty  is  this  uneventful  life, 
Dim  as  the  flame  of  an  expiring  torch  ! 
Ha!  what  a  field  it  is  for  all  the  wealth 
Of  high,  proud  plans  that  swell  within  my  breast, 
And  are  contracted  here  within  these  walls, 
Where  life  grows  set,  and  hope  dies  slowly  out, 
Where  drowsily  the  day  sinks  to  its  end, 
And  nothing  worthy  of  my  thought  appears." 


220  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

As  we  see,  both  metrical  form  and  style  have 
been  remodelled  and  more  firmly  knit. 

"  Fru  Inger  of  Oestraat,"  the  second  edition  of 
which  had  appeared  the  year  before,  offers  further 
interesting  examples  of  the  difference  between  the 
works  of  Ibsen's  youth  and  the  style  of  his  ripened 
manhood.  Many  extracts  are  not  needed  for  the 
illustration  of  this  difference. 

Eline,  spying  upon  her  mother's  nocturnal  wan- 
derings in  the  knight's  hall,  sits  down  with  Bjorn 
and  bids  him  tell  her  a  fairy-tale.  He  begins  in 
a  voice  loud  enough  to  attract  attention,  and  she 
exclaims :  — 

"  Hush,  do  not  shout  thus ;  I  am  not  deaf!  A 
fairy-tale  should  not  be  bawled  out  like  some  scan- 
dalous rumor,  faring  over  shore  and  sea;  no,  it 
should  be  whispered  quietly  —  (looking  toward 
the  door  of  the  hall)  —  as  quietly  as  a  ghost  walks 
at  midnight." 

Ibsen  has  seen  that  here  was  something  super- 
fluous, weakening  the  effect,  and  has  struck  out 
the  whole  of  the  closing  period.  Only  the  first 
sentence  is  left,  in  all  its  effective  brevity.  And 
to  give  an  example  of  his  revision  in  small  mat- 
ters I  take  at  random  a  passage  from  one  of 
Eline's  speeches  in  the  conversation  that  follows 
between  her  and  her  mother:  — 


REST  AND  RETROSPECT. 


221 


"  As  you  I  pictured  to  myself 
those  women  of  whom  the  old 
chronicles  relate,  —  those  women 
who  came  forward  in  the  day  of 
danger,  and  aroused  the  people 
to  mighty  deeds.  It  seemed  to 
me  as  if  the  Lord  God  himself 
had  impressed  a  stamp  upon  your 
forehead,  and  marked  you  out  as 
she  who  should  be  a  leader  to  the 
many  thousands  who  surrounded 
you.  In  the  high  hall  knights 
and  pages  sang  your  praises,  and 
about  the  land  the  peasant  called 
you  Norway's  hope  and  pillar." 
(1st  edition.} 


"  Like  you  I  pictured  to  my- 
self those  women  of  whom  we 
may  read  in  the  chronicles  and 
battle-books. 

"  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  the 
Lord  God  himself  had  set  his 
sign  upon  your  forehead,  and 
marked  you  out  as  she  who 
should  lead  the  timorous  and 
the  irresolute.  In  the  high  hall 
knights  and  chieftains  sang  your 
praises,  and  even  the  common 
people,  near  and  far,  called  you 
the  land's  hope  and  pillar." 

(2d  edition.) 


The  fewest  changes  are  made  in  Kline's  famous 
scene  with  Nils  Lykke  and  in  Fru  Inger's  mono- 
logue in  the  fifth  act.  The  greatest  changes  are 
made  in  Nils  Lykke's  speeches.  The  long  mono- 
logue, in  particular,  with  which  he  introduces  him- 
self to  the  reader  in  the  second  act,  has  been  cut 
down  to  about  half  its  original  length,  both  char- 
acter and  play  gaining  greatly  by  the  reduction. 
At  thought  of  Lucia's  death  he  says,  for  example, 
in  the  first  edition :  — 

"  Flowers  fade  early  here  in  the  North  !  A  maiden  is 
injured,  receives  a  shock,  and  so  it  is  over,  once  for  all. 
I  would  gladly  know  whether  it  is  from  shame  and  anger 
at  the  loss  of  what  is  called  honor,  or  from  sorrow  and 
grief  that  the  man  to  whom  she  has  given  herself  up 
proves  treacherous.  In  either  case  she  is  a  fool,  and  one 
fool  more  or  less  in  the  world,  that  —  (After  a  pause, 


222  HEN R IK  IBSEN. 

smiling)  Hm,  the  springtime  of  my  young  life  has  been 
rich  enough ;  every  year  have  I  seen  a  rose  run  to  seed 
in  the  spring,  and  a  lily  fade  in  the  autumn." 

All  this  is  omitted,  and  we  have  instead  only  the 
words :  "  Flowers  are  crushed,  flowers  fade,"  mur- 
mured, half  smiling,  by  Nils  Lykke.  The  author 
has  been  almost  as  summary  in  his  treatment  of 
Nils  Lykke's  description  of  Eline,  further  on  in  the 
monologue.  Even  so  characteristic  a  bit  as  the  fol- 
lowing, "  The  best  part  of  love  is  remembrance, 
and  I  —  have  many  memories,"  has  been  sacrificed 
as  superfluous. 

Ibsen  has  treated  his  lyrical  poems  still  more 
radically.  When  we  look  at  the  little  volume  of 
"  Poems  "  published  by  him,  we  are  apt  to  think 
that  his  lyrical  productivity  has  been  very  slight. 
Yet  he  wrote  and  published,  in  his  younger  days, 
so  many  poems  that,  if  all  were  included,  they 
would  make  several  collections  of  the  size  of  the 
one  revised  by  him.  His  self-criticism  has  been 
more  busily  at  work  here  than  anywhere  else. 

As  early  as  1850  or  1851,  he  thought  of  pub- 
lishing a  collection  of  poems,  and  the  plan  was  so 
far  carried  into  execution  that  the  first  sheet  was 
printed  ;  then  he  thought  better  of  it,  and  the  pub- 
lication was  postponed  from  one  year  to  another. 
When  the  matter  was  seriously  taken  up  again  his 
criticism  was  so  severe  that  of  his  entire  lyric  out- 


REST  AND   RETROSPECT.  22$ 

put  only  fifty-five  poems  were  found  worthy  to  be 
included.  Of  the  long  poem  called,  in  "  The  Man," 
"  A  Saturday  Evening  at  Hardanger,"  only  the 
brief  intermezzo  was  preserved  which  now  opens 
the  collection  under  the  title  of  "  Fiddlers,"  and 
this  was  reduced  from  nine  to  four  short  stanzas. 
"  In  the  Picture-Gallery,"  the  poetic  cyclus  already 
mentioned,  which  consisted  of  twenty-three  poems, 
was  condensed  into  the  little  poem  "  In  the  Gal- 
lery," while  of  the  separate  poems  of  the  cyclus 
only  "  Fear  of  Light  "  was  preserved  intact,  one  or 
two  other  bits  being  utilized  in  the  construction  of 
some  short  new  poems.  In  "  At.Akershus,"  four 
stanzas  were  cut  out,  and  six  new  ones  supplied ; 
"  Building  Plans  "  was  reduced  from  five  stanzas  to 
three;  "  The  Eider  Duck  "  from  sixteen  to  seven, 
etc.  These  examples  show  how  summarily  the 
poet  dealt  with  his  work. 

And  when  we  examine  the  revision  in  detail, 
our  impression  of  the  exacting  nature  of  his  self- 
criticism  and  of  the  difference  between  his  later 
and  earlier  styles  will  not  be  diminished.  Take, 
for  example,  the  first  verses  of  "  At  Akershus." 
In  their  original  form,  they  read  as  follows:  — 

"  The  summer  night  has  spread  its  soft  veil  over  the 
earth ;  fog-dimmed  stars  shine  soft  and  silver-pale 
through  the  mist."1 

1  It  is  impossible  to  make  of  this  an  English  rhymed  stanza 
without  missing  the  point  that  the  author  wishes  to  make.  —  TR, 

>5 


224  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

These  fog-dimmed  stars,  shining  soft  and  silver- 
pale  through  the  mist,  do  not  please  Ibsen  when 
he  comes  upon  them  in  the  work  of  revision ;  the 
words  paint  neither  the  fog  nor  the  solitary  stars 
which  shine  through  it  in  the  summer-night  heaven; 
so,  after  having  made  a  slight  change  in  the  first 
lines,  he  rewrites  the  last  lines,  giving  to  the  verses 
this  form :  — 

"The  summer  night's  veil  with  soft  folds  spans  the 
earth ;  solitary  stars,  great  and  quiet,  burn  pale  through 
the  haze." 

This  verse  so  pictures  the  hazy  summer  night 
that  the  reader  sees  it  before  his  eyes.  And 
Ibsen's  practice  in  this  case  has  been  his  practice 
throughout.  All  the  words  which  belong  to  an 
older  poetic  terminology,  and  which  are,  in  conse- 
quence, a  little  worn,  he  replaces  by  new  expres- 
sions, that  are  more  picturesque  in  effect,  because 
nearer  to  actuality.  The  "  wave  "  is  replaced  by 
the  "  fjord ;  "  the  "  cliff"  by  the  "  mountain-wall ;  " 
my  "room"  by  my  "nest;"  to  "make  one's 
way"  becomes  to  "break  one's  way;  "  to  "daz- 
zle "  becomes  to  "  blind ;  "  to  "  step  "  (as  on  a 
stairway)  becomes  to  "  mount ;  "  to  "  slip  "  (along) 
is  replaced  by  "  proceed  "  (on  land)  or  by  "  steer" 
(at  sea) ;  "  then  "  is  sometimes  changed  to  "  at 
that  time,"  and  sometimes  particularized  as  "  that 
evening;"  "bright"  gold  becomes  "red"  gold, 


REST  AND  RETROSPECT.  22$ 

and  a  word  like  "  dark "  is  sometimes  altered  to 
"  red,"  sometimes  to  "  gloomy  "  ("  the  red  glow 
in  the  eye,"  "the  midnight  gloomy  shaft;"  in 
both  cases  the  word  was  originally  "  dark").1 

As  a  rule  the  alterations  are  matters  of  style, 
but  there  are  a  few  cases  in  which  changes  of  a 
more  serious  character  have  been  made.  "  Fear 
of  Light  "  now  ends  with  the  following  stanza :  — 

"  When  the  outposts  of  day  I  am  nearing 

Are  my  wits  in  a  sorry  plight ; 
If  some  great  deed  't  is  mine  to  accomplish, 
It  must  be  a  deed  of  night." 

This  was  added  during  the  process  of  revision. 
As  published  in  "  The  Illustrated  Newspaper,"  the 
poem  ends  with  the  stanza  just  preceding  this. 
The  alteration  made  in  "  The  Eider  Duck " 
is  very  characteristic.  At  first  the  eider  duck 
was  for  Ibsen  merely  an  image  of  perseverance 
and  faithfulness.  Man  was  far  less  faithful  and 
persevering,  for,  — 

"Once  bereft  of  the  treasure  thus  hidden  from  sight, 
His  soul  is  wrapped  in  eternal  night ; 
His  strength  is  sapped  and  his  spirits  depressed, 
And  nothing  remains  but  his  bleeding  breast." 

All   this   disappears   in   the    process    of   revision, 

1  It  is  painfully  evident  that  no  translation  can  accurately  con- 
vey the  author's  meaning  in  this  and  the  accompanying  para- 
graphs, but  it  has  been  thought  better  to  reproduce  them  as  well  as 
possible  than  to  leave  them  out  altogether.  —  TR. 


226  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

and  the  eider  duck  is  made  to  serve  as  an  image 
of  the  poet's  own  experience. 

"  If  his  treasure  a  third  time  is  taken,  't  is  said, 
On  some  night  of  spring  his  wings  are  spread, 
And  he  cleaves  the  mist  with  his  bleeding  breast, 
On  some  sunnier  Southern  shore  to  nest." 

No  less  characteristic  are  the  changes  made 
in  "  Building  Plans."  Of  the  greater  and  the 
lesser  aim  —  that  of  becoming  an  immortal  poet, 
and  that  of  possessing  a  woman's  love  —  he 
originally  wrote  thus :  — 

"At  first  I  thought  the  plan  possessed  a  noble  harmony; 
But  later  on  discordant  the  whole  thing  seemed  to  me, 
And  when  I  grew  to  reason's  age  it  would  not  do  at  all ; 
The  great  aim  seemed  so  little  ;  the  lesser  aim  was  all." 

The  last  two  lines  are  given  as  follows  in  the 
revised  editions :  — 

"The  builder  grown  to  reason's  age,  the  castle  would  not  do; 
The  great  wing  was  too  little;  the  lesser  wing  fell  through." 

Such  alterations  as  these  testify  to  the  various 
experiences  which  united  to  give  Ibsen  a  darker 
view  of  life,  and  which  embittered  his  disposition 
as  the  years  flowed  by. 

And  poems  like  "  The  Might  of  Memory," 
and  "  The  Grounds  of  Faith,"  written  just  after  he 
went  abroad,  reproduce  his  feeling  towards  Nor- 
way with  an  intensified  energy  of  expression. 
Such  verses  as  the  former  may  serve  as  a  poetical 


FRAU    IBSEN. 


REST  AND  RETROSPECT.  22/ 

illustration  of  the  declaration  made  in  Rome  that 
he  would  never  return. 

Yet  he  came  to  feel,  after  some  time  had  elapsed, 
that  he  must  see  his  home  once  more.  The  first 
edition  of  his  poems  had  these  closing  lines :  — 

"  To  the  huts  of  the  snowlands 

Every  night  of  the  year, 
From  these  sunlit  lowlands 
Speeds  a  cavalier." 

and  when  in  the  following  year,  he  sent  home  his 
great  poem,  "  For  the  Millennial  Festival,"  it  began 
with  the  following  greeting  of  reconciliation  :  — 

"  My  countrymen,  who  made  for  me  to  flow 
That  tonic  draught,  bitter,  but  strong  to  save, 
That  gave  the  poet,  standing  by  his  grave, 
New  strength  to  fight  beneath  the  sun's  fierce  glow  ; 
Who  then  to  me  the  staff  of  exile  gave, 
Of  fear  the  sandals,  and  the  pack  of  woe  ; 
Who  sent  me  with  such  outfit  forth  to  roam, 
Here  from  the  world  I  send  this  greeting  home. 

"  I  send,  and  thank  you  for  the  griefs  that  harden 
And  cleanse  the  soul  with  flow  of  bitter  tears ; 
For  all  the  flowers  that  bloom  in  life's  rich  garden 
Are  firmly  rooted  in  those  bygone  years ; 
That  here  in  full  luxuriant  life  they  grow 
To  chilling  blasts  sent  from  afar  they  owe ; 
Mist-nurtured,  in  the  sun  they  here  expand, 
For  these  best  gifts  I  thank  my  native  land." 

Nevertheless,  he  felt  uneasy  and  doubtful  when, 
after  ten  years  of  absence,  he  finally  determined 
to  revisit  his  country;  he  confessed  as  much  as 


228  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

this  in  his  address  to  the  students.  The  cordial 
reception  with  which  his  books  had  met  did  not 
set  his  mind  at  rest ;  he  was  still  agitated  by  the 
question,  "  How  do  I  stand  personally  with  my 
fellow-countrymen?  "  The  question  was  answered 
by  the  enthusiasm  of  his  reception. 

Yet  it  was  hardly  the  desire  to  have  this  ques- 
tion answered  that  brought  him  home;  it  was 
rather  the  feeling  that  he  had  reached  a  turning- 
point  in  his  poetic  development.  The  step  taken 
with  "  The  Young  Men's  Union  "  was  but  the  first 
step  in  a  new  path. 

The  period  of  historical  tragedy  and  of  contro- 
versial poetry  was  past  for  him ;  the  drama  of 
modern  life  was  about  to  absorb  his  attention. 
And  that  he  might  paint  a  vital  picture  of  modern 
life,  he  felt  that  he  must  once  more  tread  Norwe- 
gian earth  and  breathe  Norwegian  air.  His  rela- 
tions to  actuality  were  such  that  a  protracted  stay 
at  home  was  not  necessary;  a  brief  sojourn  would 
suffice.  So  he  withdrew  once  more  into  his  exile, 
and  keeping,  by  the  study  of  books  and  news- 
papers, a  sharp  eye  upon  home  affairs,  he  began 
the  series  of  modern  dramas  whose  production  has 
characterized  the  last  ten  years  of  his  creative  ac- 
tivity, and  which  have  given  him  European  fame. 

These  works  lie  so  near  to  our  age  that  they 
may  hardly  be  now  examined  from  the  historical 


REST  AND  RETROSPECT.  22Q 

standpoint,  and  to  form  a  general  critical  estimate 
of  them  does  not  come  within  my  present  pur- 
pose. So  I  will  be  content  with  a  solution  of  one 
aspect  of  the  problem  which  I  have  set  myself, 
with  pointing  out  their  leading  motives,  and  char- 
acterizing their  artistic  stamp. 


VI. 


DRAMAS   OF   MODERN   LIFE. 

/TNHE  great  historical  happenings  that  closed 
•*•  the  period  of  the  sixties  and  opened  that 
of  the  seventies  fixed  Ibsen's  attention  in  the  most 
marked  degree.  During  the  war  between  Denmark 
and  Germany  he  had  observed,  in  European  poli- 
tics, that  contradiction  between  word  and  deed 
which  it  gradually  became  a  passion  for  him  to 
trace  out. 

"  With  forgotten  vows,  with  deceitful  words, 

With  treaties  torn  and  repealed, 
With  oaths  of  yesterday  broken  to-day, 
You  have  fertilized  history's  field," 

he  exclaimed  to  the  statesmen  of  Europe.      He 
came  to  believe  that  the  age  he  lived  in  was  an 


DRAMAS   OF  MODERN  LIFE.  2$  I 

outworn  age,  and  that  a  new  one  must  be  at  hand ; 
and  in  this  connection  he  instituted  comparisons 
with  other  critical  periods  of  European  civilization, 
and  with  the  general  dissolution  which  preceded 
the  rise  of  a  new  order  of  things  in  the  later 
Roman  empire,  —  with  the  period  when  every 
thing  was  falling  into  ruins;  when 

"  the  castle-wall, 
The  circus,  the  temple  with  roof 
Fallen  in,  the  arch,  the  colonnade,  —  all 
Were  crushed  by  the  buffalo's  hoof. 
So  the  future  was  reared  upon  this  dearth 
Of  the  past,  and  pure  was  the  air. 
And  now  there  are  signs  of  a  nobler  birth, 
Now  pestilent  fogs  from  the  marshy  earth 
Rise  up,  and  drift  here  and  there."  * 

Or  he  likened  the  age  to  that  of  the  decline  of 
ancient  Egypt.  In  both  cases  a  lack  of  individu- 
ality was  the  cause ;  for,  as  he  says  in  "  The  Bal- 
loon Letter," 

"  When  the  will  no  longer  thrones, 
When  the  body  is  not  torn 
By  joy  exultant,  hate,  and  scorn, 
Beat  of  pulse  and  blood's  hot  flow,  — 
Then  is  all  the  splendid  show 
But  a  rattling  of  dry  bones." 

At  the  time  of  the  war  between  France  and 
Germany  Ibsen  seems  to  have  foreseen  a  new  and 
epoch-making  crisis,  —  a  new  age  close  at  hand.  In 

1  From  the  poem  entitled  "  Abraham  Lincoln's  Murder  " 


232  HENKIK  IBSEN. 

"The  Balloon  Letter,"  written  in  December,  1870, 
he  makes  definite  reference  to  such  a  new  age: 

"  Lady,  shall  we  to  the  feast  ? 
For  the  carrier  dove  when  least 
We  expect,  may  bring  the  card." 

And  in  a  letter  of  the  same  month,  written  to 
Georg  Brandes,  this  prophecy  finds  energetic  ex- 
pression in  prose. 

"  The  events  of  the  day  largely  occupy  my 
thoughts,"  he  writes.  "  The  old  illusory  France 
has  gone  to  pieces ;  when  the  new  actual  Prussia 
likewise  shall  go  to  pieces,  we  shall  advance  with 
a  leap  into  the  coming  age.  Hej !  How  ideas 
will  tumble  about  us  !  And  it  will  be  high  time,  in 
truth.  For  up  to  date  we  have  been  but  living 
upon  the  crumbs  from  the  revolutionary  table  of 
the  last  century,  and  that  food  has  been  long 
enough  chewed  and  re-chewed.  Our  concepts  call 
for  new  meanings  and  new  explanations.  Liberty, 
equality,  and  fraternity  are  no  longer  what  they 
were  in  the  days  of  the  guillotine,  of  blessed  mem- 
ory. This  is  just  what  the  politicians  will  not  un- 
derstand, and  for  that  reason  I  hate  them.  Men 
still  call  for  special  revolutions  —  for  revolutions 
in  politics,  in  externals.  But  all  that  sort  of  thing 
is  trumpery.  It  is  the  human  soul  that  must 
revolt." 

What  Ibsen  awaited  of  the  new  age  was  a  condi- 


DRAMAS  OF  MODERN  LIFE.  233 

tion  of  things  favorable  to  the  free  development  of 
individuality,  unchecked  by  state  or  society.  In 
another  letter  to  Georg  Brandes,  written  a  month 
or  two  later,  we  read :  "  The  state  is  the  curse  of 
the  individual.  How  has  the  strength  of  Prussia 
been  bought?  By  the  sacrifice  of  the  individual 
to  the  political  and  geographical  idea.  The  Kellner 
is  the  best  soldier.  The  state  must  away !  That 
revolution  shall  find  me  on  its  side.  Undermine 
the  conception  of  the  state ;  proclaim  free  will  and 
spiritual  kinship  as  the  leading  elements  in  the  final 
settlement,  and  we  shall  be  on  the  way  to  a  freedom 
that  will  be  worth  something."  This  thought,  that 
the  state  is  the  foe  of  individuality,  and  must,  in 
consequence,  away,  is  one  of  Ibsen's  pet  ideas. 
Sixteen  years  after  this  letter  was  written,  I  heard 
him  develop  the  same  idea  with  the  same  zealous 
warmth.  This  idea  is  characteristic  of  our  age, 
and  may  come  to  play  a  great  part  in  the  future. 
Even  so  zealous  a  defender  of  the  idea  of  the  state 
as  Herbert  Spencer,  admits,  in  one  of  his  essays, 
that  we  are  tending  toward  a  form  of  government 
in  which  "direction  will  be  reduced  to  a  minimum, 
and  freedom  raised  to  a  maximum."  In  fact,  as 
Brandes  points  out,  the  ideas  shortly  afterward 
proclaimed  by  the  Paris  commune  were  allied  to 
those  of  Ibsen's  letter.  Ibsen  himself  felt  this  kin- 
ship of  idea;  in  a  letter  written  to  Brandes  some 


234  HENRJK  IBSEN. 

time  later  he  laments  that  the  commune  has  gone 
and  spoiled  his  "  excellent  theory  of  the  state,  or 
rather  of  the  no-state."  "  The  idea  will  now  be 
powerless  for  a  long  while,  and  I  cannot  even  ad- 
vocate it  in  verse  without  impropriety.  And  yet  I 
see  clearly  that  it  had  a  sound  kernel,  and  that  it 
will  one  day  be  put  into  effect  without  being 
caricatured." 

The  Paris  commune,  and  the  reaction  that  fol- 
lowed upon  it,  disappointed  Henrik  Ibsen.  Like 
Maximos,  in  "  Emperor  and  Galilean,"  he  had 
thought  "  the  third  kingdom  "  to  be  at  hand,  and, 
like  Maximos,  also,  he  was  forced  to  admit  his 
error,  and  to  realize  that  the  time  was  not  yet 
come.  Personal  impressions  like  these  are  doubt- 
less responsible  for  the  peculiar  way  in  which 
the  character  of  the  mystic  is  delineated. 

As  long  as  he  believed  the  new  order  of  things 
to  be  at  hand,  he  preserved  an  attitude  of  dignified 
expectancy. 

"  Until  then  I  live  expectant, 
Wear  kid  gloves  about  the  house ; 
Till  then  while  away  the  hours, 
And  on  parchment  poems  indite." 

But  as  soon  as  he  perceived  that  "  Europe's  steam- 
packet,"  although  on  its  course  to  new  shores, 
had  on  board  the  body  of  the  past,  —  which  would 
long  remain  there,  seeing  that  the  voyage  was 
far  from  nearing  its  end,  —  he  abandoned  the 


DRAMAS  OF  MODERN  LIFE.  235 

expectant  attitude,  and  began  to  diagnose  the 
diseases  of  modern  society.  The  result  of  these 
efforts  lies  before  us  in  the  series  of  social  dramas 
which  begins  with  "  The  Pillars  of  Society,"  and 
ends,  for  the  present,  with  "  Rosmersholm."  1 

The  notorious  Russian  scientist  and  anarchist, 
Prince  Kropotkin,  in  an  article  in  "  The  Nine- 
teenth Century,"  2  has  recently  characterized  mod- 
ern social  hypocrisy  in  the  following  words :  "  Our 
principles  of  morality  say :  '  Love  your  neighbor 
as  yourself; '  but  let  a  child  follow  this  principle 
and  take  off  his  coat  to  give  it  to  the  shivering 
pauper,  and  his  mother  will  tell  him  that  he  must 
never  understand  the  moral  principles  in  their 
right  sense.  If  he  lives  according  to  them,  he 
will  go  barefoot,  without  alleviating  the  misery 
round  about  him.  Morality  is  good  on  the  lips, 
not  in  deeds.  Our  preachers  say,  '  Who  works, 
prays,'  and  everybody  endeavors  to  make  others 
work  for  himself.  They  say,  '  Never  lie,'  and 
politics  is  a  big  lie.  And  we  accustom  ourselves 
and  our  children  to  live  under  this  double-faced 
morality,  which  is  hypocrisy,  and  to  conciliate 
our  double-facedness  by  sophistry.  Hypocrisy 

1  "The  Lady  from  the  Sea"  (1888),  Ibsen's  latest  work  up  to 
the  present  date,  did  not  appear  in  time  to  be  included  in  this 
biography.  —  Tr. 

2  February,  1887. 


236  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

and  sophistry  become  the  very  basis  of  our  life. 
But  society  cannot  live  under  such  a  morality. 
It  cannot  last  so  ;  it  must,  it  will  be  changed." 

A  wholly  similar  conception  of  modern  society 
lies  at  the  basis  of  Ibsen's  dramas  of  modern  life, 
and  it  is  with  this  modern  social  hypocrisy  that 
he  deals.  He  no  longer  takes  up  bunglers  like 
Peer  Gynt,  and  adventurers  like  Stensgaard,  but 
rather  typical  specimens  of  social  man.  He  makes 
so  many  concessions  to  them,  and  endows  them 
with  so  many  excellent  qualities,  that  public  opin- 
ion would  regard  them  as  wholly  worthy  and 
honorable  men,  and  then  he  tears  from  them 
their  conventional  tatters,  leaving  their  brutal 
egotism  to  appear  in  all  its  nakedness. 

Consul  Bernick  is  the  first  of  the  lot;  he  is 
the  most  respected  and  conspicuous  man  of  the 
town,  —  a  business-man  of  the  utmost  importance, 
a  man  who  takes  the  lead  in  all  projects  for  the 
general  welfare,  the  liberal-handed  benefactor  of 
his  native  place,  one  of  society's  stoutest  pillars. 
Yet  egotism  lurks  behind  all  his  actions ;  if  he 
bestows  gifts  upon  the  town,  it  is  to  win  power 
and  consideration ;  and  when  he  espouses  the 
cause  of  the  railway,  it  is  because  he  will  profit 
by  its  construction.  But  he  dare  not  carry  out 
his  plans  in  an  honest  and  straightforward  manner 
because  of  his  environment.  Society  demands 


DRAMAS  OF  MODERN  LIFE.  237 

that  magnificent  phrases  be  used,  and  so  he  and 
everybody  else  adorn  their  small  acts  with  mag- 
nificent phrases. 

There  is,  moreover,  a  special  sort  of  social 
hypocrisy  in  Norway  which  Ibsen  took  this  oc- 
casion to  show  up.  It  is  a  sort  of  hypocrisy 
that  was  in  full  flower  at  the  time  when  this 
piece  was  written. 

The  great  European  happenings  had  not  made 
upon  the  Norwegian  public  the  impression  that 
they  had  made  upon  Henrik  Ibsen.  We  were 
rather  terrified  by  them  than  otherwise.  We  had 
read  in  the  newspapers  reports  of  the  horrors  of 
the  Paris  commune,  and  mysterious  suggestions 
of  a  secret  society,  calling  itself  the  "  Interna- 
tional," whose  object  was  to  consign  the  whole 
of  modern  civilization  to  the  flames.  And  at  the 
same  time  we  read  of  diverging  currents  of  thought 
in  the  world  outside,  and  learned  that  some  of  the 
worst  of  them  were  flowing  in  our  direction.  But 
here,  fortunately,  they  would  gain  no  currency; 
there  was  peace  here  and  no  danger,  for  our  little 
society  was  based,  thank  God,  upon  safer  moral 
foundations  than  the  great  societies  abroad.  These 
great  societies  were  generally  regarded  as  falling 
into  hopeless  decay;  ours,  on  the  contrary,  was 
still  in  sound  condition,  and  it  behooved  us  to  pre- 
serve it  thus  by  firmly  intrenching  ourselves,  and 


238  HEN R IK  IBSEN. 

establishing  a  sort  of  spiritual  quarantine  for  all 
modern  ideas.  Our  own  moral  superiority  was  at 
that  time  one  of  the  special  Norwegian  articles  of 
faith,  as  is  always  the  case  with  small  countries 
that  have  for  a  long  period  been  shut  off  from 
outside  agitations  for  the  promotion  of  a  higher 
degree  of  civilization. 

It  is  against  this  local  social  hypocrisy  that 
Ibsen  especially  takes  his  stand  in  "  The  Pillars 
of  Society."  His  opinion  is  that  the  main  differ- 
ence between  large  and  small  communities  is  to 
be  found  in  the  fact  that  there  is  more  lying  and 
thieving  in  the  latter  than  in  the  former.  The 
smaller  the  community  the  more  numerous  the 
considerations  weighing  with  the  individual,  the 
more  personal  initiative  is  crippled,  and  the  fewer 
great  things  are  achieved,  while  social  morality 
still  serves  to  cover  the  same  vice  and  crimes. 
Bernick,  who  is  at  first  so  indignant  at  American 
ship-owners  for  sending  unsafe  ships  to  sea,  is 
finally  driven,  for  the  very  purpose  of  preserving 
his  own  social  position,  to  become  guilty  of  the 
same  crime. 

When  the  play  appeared,  it  was  natural  that  the 
hypocrisy  attacked  by  the  author  should  be  prompt 
to  protest.  The  critics  asserted  that  the  picture 
drawn  by  Ibsen  was  not  a  likeness,  that  our  society 
was  not  what  he,  off  in  Munich,  had  imagined  it  to 


HENRIK    IBSEN. 


DRAMAS  OF  MODERN  LIFE.  239 

be,  and  that  it  was  in  reality  better  and  more  hon- 
orable than  larger  societies.  During  the  ten  years 
that  have  elapsed  since  then,  the  logic  of  events 
has  decided  so  irrevocably  between  author  and 
critic  that  the  sort  of  hypocrisy  in  question  no 
longer  dares  lift  its  head. 

In  "The  Pillars  of  Society"  we  saw  the  citizen 
from  the  social  point  of  view,  but  in  Consul  Ber- 
nick's  relation  to  his  wife  there  was  already  offered 
a  suggestion  of  the  citizen  as  married  man.  This 
suggestion  was  carried  out  in  "A  Doll  Home." 
In  this  case  also,  the  author  makes  a  great  number 
of  concessions  to  the  person  whose  egotism  is  to 
be  disclosed.  Lawyer  Helmer  is  a  man  who  would 
be  taken  as  an  ornament  to  society;  he  is  pro- 
priety itself  in  all  that  is  external,  a  person  of 
aesthetic  inclination  and  developed  taste;  he  has 
the  strongest  possible  antipathy  to  everything  that 
is  false  and  dishonorable;  and  his  conception  of 
financial  solvency  is  so  strict  that  he  will  not  accept 
a  loan,  merely  because  he  might  die  the  next  day, 
and  thus  be  prevented  from  meeting  the  obligation. 
In  these  respects  the  author  has  made  him  a  better 
man  than  the  majority  are.  But  how  brutal  is  the 
selfishness  concealed  beneath  this  fair  surface ! 
How  rough  and  selfish  he  is  in  his  relations  with 
his  wife,  not  only  when  he  makes  the  terrible  dis- 
covery of  her  forgery,  but  before  that,  in  their 
16 


240  I1ENRIK  IBSEN. 

daily  life !  She  is  to  live  for  his  sake  only,  to 
have  no  other  thought  than  of  him,  no  feelings, 
no  opinions,  save  those  which  are  his. 

No  other  of  Ibsen's  plays  has  aroused  such  per- 
sistent and  varied  discussion  as  "  A  Doll  Home ;  " 
it  actually  gave  rise,  in  Norway,  Denmark,  and 
Sweden,  to  a  whole  literature  of  comment,  favor- 
able and  unfavorable.  In  the  latter  country  it 
even  gave  the  impulse  to  a  dramatic  school,  which, 
taking  Ibsen's  play  for  a  model,  dealt  with  allied 
subjects, —  often,  it  must  be  said,  in  a  manner  a 
little  suggestive  of  caricature. 

That  which  gives  "  A  Doll  Home  "  so  conspic- 
uous a  place  among  Ibsen's  works  is  the  circum- 
stance that  here,  for  the  first  time,  the  author  ex- 
tends his  old  principle  of  individuality  to  embrace 
women  as  well  as  men.  Women  also  shall  be 
themselves,  be  human  beings,  and  not  merely  their 
husbands'  wives,  and  their  children's  mothers. 

"  Thou  art,  first  and  foremost,  wife  and 
mother,"  says  Helmer. 

"  That  I  no-  longer  believe,"  replies  Nora.  "  I 
believe  that  I  am,  first  and  foremost,  a  human  be- 
ing; I,  as  well  as  thou  —  or,  in  any  case,  that  I 
should  endeavor  to  become  one." 

Ibsen  had  not  previously  embraced  woman  m 
this  view ;  he  had  created  a  few  strong-willed  ex- 
ceptions, but  never  before  had  he  represented 


DRAMAS  OF  MODERN  LIFE.  241 

woman  as  completely  carried  away  by  enthusiasm 
for  manly  activity ;  her  great  and  admirable  trait 
of  character  was  that  of  being  ready  to  sacrifice  ail 
for  the  man  whom  she  loved.  So  was  represented 
Aurelia  in  "  Catilina,"  so  Eline  in  "  Fru  Inger," 
Margrethe,  Fru  Ragnhild,  and  Ingebjorg  in  "  The 
Pretenders,"  Agnes  in  "  Brand,"  Solvejg  in  "  Peer 
Gynt,"  and  Fru  Bernick,  Froken  Bernick,  and  Lona 
Hessel  in  "  The  Pillars  of  Society."  Even  Hjordis 
might  have  been  such  a  woman,  had  she  married 
Sigurd  rather  than  Gunnar.  And  if  the  sacrifice 
was  not  made  for  their  husbands,  it  was  for  their 
sons.  What,  besides  her  son,  is  the  red  thread  in 
Fru  Inger's  life?  What  is  it  but  affection  for  her 
son  that  makes  of  Aase,  in  spite  of  everything,  a 
sympathetic  character?  And  what  to  us  is  Inga 
of  Varteig,  save  mother  to  "  the  king,  her  mighty 
son  "?  Love  is  the  essential  trait  of  woman's  char- 
acter, —  the  love  which  is  ready  to  sacrifice  every 
thing  without  hope  of  reward.  So  we  read,  in  the 
first  edition  of  "  The  Pretenders,"  this  genuinely 
Ibsenese  aphorism :  "  To  love,  to  sacrifice  all,  and 
to  forget,  —  that  is  the  saga  of  womankind."  And 
so  Ibsen  always  pictured  woman  in  a  radiant,  poetic 
light,  contrasting  her  with  self-loving  man ;  so  all 
the  lyrical  impulse,  all  the  fulness  of  repressed 
feeling,  which  he  could  make  no  use  of  in  his  pre- 
sentation of  man,  he  lays  as  a  halo  around  the 


242  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

brow  of  woman.  To  the  delineation  of  such 
women  are  devoted  the  gentlest  and  most  affecting 
portions  of  his  work.  Nothing  can  be  more  deli- 
cate and  graceful  than  Eline's  or  Margrethe's  love, 
nothing  deeper  or  warmer  than  those  scenes  in  the 
fourth  act  of  "  Brand  "  where  the  thought  of  Agnes 
dwells  upon  her  dead  child.  Thus  we  see  that 
Ibsen,  more  than  any  other  poet,  is  the  champion 
of  woman,  and  if  he  does  not  wholly  agree  with 
Bernick,  he  is  not  far  from  doing  so  when  the 
latter  exclaims:  "You  women  are  the  pillars  of 
society." 

But  his  fundamental  principle  was  bound,  in 
the  course  of  time,  to  make  him  apply  to  women 
the  same  measure  of  individuality  that  he  applied 
to  men,  and  when  that  point  was  reached,  he  could 
no  longer  regard  the  faculty  of  merging  herself  in 
the  being  of  another  as  her  highest.  As  the  dia- 
metrical opposite  of  egoism  this  faculty  was  sure 
of  his  sympathy ;  but  to  be  one's  self  was  not  alone 
to  "die  to  one's  self,"  and,  great  as  came  to  be  his 
admiration  for  altruism,  he  could  not  wholly  forget 
the  demands  of  individuality. 

It  has  been  suggested,  and  rightfully,  that  the 
germ  of "  A  Doll  Home  "  may  be  found  in  Sel- 
ma's  outburst  in  the  fourth  act  of  "  The  Young 
Men's  Union,"  but  the  first  germ  of  the  idea 
dates  further  back.  In  one  of  the  scenes  which 


DRAMAS  OF  MODERN  LIFE.  243 

represent  Peer  Gynt  paying  court  to  Anitra,  he 
says :  — 

"  I  would  have  thee  for  my  pleasure, 
Of  my  love  the  arbitress, 
I  would  have  thee  mine  alone ; 
I  would  be  to  thee  a  treasure 
Rich  as  gold  or  precious  stone. 
Should  we  part,  then  life  would  be 
Nota  bene,  worthless  grown, 
And  for  thee  especially. 
Every  inch  of  thee  I  'd  see 

Devoted  utterly  to  me. 

T  is  a  fine  thing,  on  the  whole, 

That  so  empty  is  thy  head , 

Of  thyself,  hadst  thou  a  soul, 

Thou  might'st  think  at  times  instead. 

I  have  hit  on  just  the  thing,  — 

Yes,  believe  me,  thou  shalt  go 

With  thine  ankle  in  a  ring,  — 

For  us  both  "t  is  best  't  were  so ; 

I  will  be  thy  soul,  thy  king; 

For  the  rest,  —  the  status  quo." 

These  lines  provide  a  sketch  for  Helmer's  por- 
trait, and  also  —  as  the  postulate  of  their  satire  — 
they  embody  the  view  that  led  Ibsen,  in  "  A 
Doll  Home,"  to  extend  to  woman  the  principle 
of  individuality. 

But   in    accordance   with    Ibsen's    general    con 
ception  of  woman,  this  principle   is  presented  in 
the   shape  of  an    earnest   appeal,  not   in   that  of 
a  bitter  reproach  for  unfulfilled  obligations. 

Nora,  from  the  very  start,  is  one  of  Ibsen's 
characteristic  delineations  of  woman  in  the  old 


244  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

manner;  she  has,  like  her  predecessors,  an  un- 
limited readiness  to  sacrifice  herself.  She  does 
not  hesitate  at  forgery  to  spare  her  father  and 
save  her  husband's  life,  and  she  feels  convinced 
that  the  action  is  a  praiseworthy  one.  When 
she  is  told  that  such  an  action  is  looked  upon 
as  criminal,  she  cannot  believe  it;  and  even  when 
convinced  that  such  is  the  case,  she  would  still 
be  willing  to  repeat  the  offence  if  the  situation 
seemed  to  make  it  desirable.  When  Helmer 
says,  "  No  one  sacrifices  honor  for  love,"  she 
stands  as  the  spokesman  for  all  of  Ibsen's  wo- 
men, as  well  as  for  his  own  conception  of  her 
sex,  when  she  exclaims,  "  A  hundred  thousand 
women  have  done  it."  When  August  Strindberg, 
in  the  preface  to  the  first  part  of  "  Married," 
takes  the  poet  to  task  for  this  reply,  characteri- 
zing it  as  a  sort  of  chivalric  phrase,  he  simply 
shows  that  he  does  not  understand  one  of  the 
most  marked  characteristics  of  Ibsen's  work. 

But  such  unlimited  devotion  is  dangerous  to 
individuality,  especially  in  marriage  with  a  man 
like  Helmer.  In  such  a  marriage  Nora  cannot 
become  a  human  being;  she  remains,  and  must 
remain,  a  mere  doll.  For  Helmer's  ideal  of  a 
wife  is  much  like  Peer  Gynt's  ideal  of  a  mis- 
tress: just  as  Peer  Gynt  would  be  Anitra's  soul, 
so  Helmer  would  be  both  Nora's  will  and  con- 


DRAMAS  OF  MODERN  LIFE.  245 

science.  She  lives  in  a  sort  of  minority,  thinks 
as  a  child,  and  allows  herself  to  be  treated  as  a 
child.  As  long  as  she  regards  her  husband  with 
boundless  admiration,  and  trusts  in  him  uncon- 
ditionally, things  go  on  fairly  well;  but  the  day 
when  trust  and  admiration  collapse,  the  day  when 
she  realizes  what  sort  of  man  he  is  for  whom  she 
has  sacrificed  so  much,  that  day  brings  her  life 
to  a  crisis,  —  she  is  then  forced  to  choose  between 
absolute  self-renunciation  and  self-assertion.  As 
we  know,  Ibsen  makes  her  choose  the  latter, 
represents  her  as  breaking  the  degrading  bonds 
put  upon  her  by  this  marriage,  just  as  he  had 
represented  his  earlier  ideal  figures  as  breaking 
the  bonds  put  upon  them  by  society.  Having 
previously  pointed  out  the  dangers  to  individu- 
ality inherent  in  the  constitution  of  society,  he 
now  points  out  the  dangers  inherent  in  marriage, 
and  ends  with  a  wholesale  condemnation  of  that 
class  of  marriages  in  which  the  husband  is  every- 
thing and  the  wife  nothing. 

The  conclusion  of  "  A  Doll  Home "  brought 
out  much  adverse  criticism.  It  was,  with  much 
diversity  of  view,  condemned;  and  the  general 
result  of  this  adverse  criticism  was  to  characterize 
it  as  immoral. 

Ibsen  naturally  viewed  the  question  in  a  very 
different  light ;  for  him  it  would  have  been  abso- 


246  HENRIK  IBSEN 

lutcly  immoral  to  continue  a  life  in  common  under 
such  conditions.  "Yes,  but  the  children?"  it  was 
asked,  "what  is  to  become  of  them?  A  mother 
cannot  be  approved  of  for  leaving  her  children 
too."  "Yes,  the  children,  yes, —  do  you  think 
perchance  that  the  children  will  be  better  off  for 
the  continuance  of  such  a  marriage?"  Ibsen  re- 
plied, and  then  put  a  new  question. 

The  new  question  was  "  Ghosts." 

As  everybody  knows,  "  Ghosts "  and  "  A  Doll 
Home  "  stand  in  a  sort  of  complementary  relation 
one  to  another. 

Suppose  Nora  to  have  returned  the  day  after 
forsaking  her  husband's  roof;  suppose  that  hus- 
band to  have  been  not  only  crude  and  narrow 
in  thought,  but  also  licentious  and  vulgar  in  life; 
suppose  them  to  have  had  no  children  until  after 
her  return,  —  and  there  you  have  the  differences 
between  Helene  Alving  and  Nora  Helmer.  The 
last  two  of  these  conditions  make  the  discussion 
of  the  morality  of  divorce  far  less  fundamental 
than  in  "  A  Doll  Home,"  but  the  attack  which  the 
play  makes  upon  prevalent  opinions  is  all  the  more 
powerful. 

Helene  Alving,  like  Nora,  leaves  her  husband, 
and  he,  like  Helmer,  is  made  unhappy  by  her 
desertion.  She  takes  refuge  with  Pastor  Manders, 
but  this  typical  spokesman  of  public  opinion  per- 


DRAMAS  OF  MODERN  LIFE.  247 

suades  her  to  return  to  the  debauched,  and  both 
bodily  and  spiritually  ruined  Alving,  who  there- 
upon continues  in  his  old  ways  as  if  nothing  had 
occurred.  What  will  now  happen?  The  answer 
given  is  about  this :  Her  feeling  of  independence 
has  become  enfeebled  by  her  abortive  attempt  to 
escape,  and  she  no  longer  dares  act  in  accordance 
with  her  views  of  right  and  wrong,  fearing,  should 
she  do  so,  to  come  into  conflict  with  what  the  pub- 
lic thinks  and  says.  And,  seeing  that  this  public 
will  blame  her  for  the  irregularities  of  her  husband, 
should  they  come  to  light,  she  does  everything 
possible  to  hide  his  life  from  the  eyes  of  the  world. 
She  becomes  a  sacrifice  to  the  general  hypocrisy. 
She  sends  away  the  son  who  is  born  to  her,  as  soon 
as  he  is  old  enough  to  be  able  to  understand  the  true 
state  of  things.  An  early  insight  into  his  surround- 
ings would  prove  disastrous,  and  so  he  must  go  away, 
however  painful  and  harmful  it  may  be.  This  is 
the  advantage  that  the  child  derives  from  the  con- 
tinuance of  such  a  union,  —  not  a  very  great  one. 
Alving  goes  on  in  his  licentious  ways,  and  she,  in 
trembling  and  fear,  strives  to  preserve  his  fame 
untarnished;  for  every  spot  upon  his  fame  will 
leave  two  upon  hers.  Even  after  his  death  she 
continues  to  watch  over  his  reputation  by  conceal- 
ing the  story  of  his  irregularities  and  glorifying  his 
memory.  For  this  reason  she  erects  the  asylum. 


248  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

But  during  all  this  toil  in  the  servile  fear  of 
society,  there  grows  within  her  a  feeling  of  revolt 
against  this  society  of  which  she  is  the  slave ;  her 
thought  gradually  analyzes  those  relations  which 
society  looks  upon  as  noble  and  holy  in  them- 
selves, but  which  she  has  come  to  know  only  in 
paltry  and  distorted  shapes.  The  relations  be- 
tween husband  and  wife,  between  brother  and 
sister,  between  father  and  son,  appear  to  her  mind 
developed  through  bitter  experience,  as  mere 
empty  forms,  as  fine  phrases  that  at  some  time 
became  invested  with  a  sort  of  halo,  and  have 
since  preserved  their  glamour  by  virtue  of  that 
human  infirmity,  illustrated  by  Andersen  in  his 
story  of  "  The  Emperor's  New  Clothes."  And 
then  comes  the  son,  and  his  life  makes  clear  the 
relation  between  mother  and  son,  the  only  relation 
that  has  as  yet  escaped  her  criticism.  But  the 
consequences  of  that  prolonged  union  between 
Chamberlain  Alving  and  his  wife  are  not  yet 
exhausted.  There  yet  remains  the  disease  which 
appears  in  Osvald  as  a  paternal  inheritance ;  and 
then,  last  of  all,  the  relations  between  Osvald  and 
Regine  reveal  a  gulf  of  new  possibilities. 

This  is  what  the  current  view  leads  to ;  these  are 
the  consequences  of  those  conventional  opinions 
that  stalk  among  us  like  ghosts.  Tear  off  the 
veil,  scrape  away  the  superficial  layer  of  hypocrisy, 


DRAMAS  OF  MODERN  LIFE.  249 

and  the  grinning  features  of  selfishness  will  con- 
front you,  not  only  in  persons  like  Regine  and 
cabinet-maker  Ensgtrand,  but  even  in  such  hard- 
headed  and  worthy  members  of  society  as  Pastor 
Manders. 

No  other  of  Ibsen's  works  makes  so  deep  and 
comprehensive  an  analysis  of  the  prevalent  mo- 
rality. He  well  knew  how  superficial  was  the 
morality  in  whose  name  the  ending  of  "  A  Doll 
Home  "  had  been  condemned,  how  much  rotten- 
ness and  vulgarity,  how  much  cowardice  and 
hypocrisy,  found  shelter  beneath  it.  He  knew 
how  unsubstantial  the  foundation  upon  which 
society  rests.  Popular  morality  was  to  him  a  vast 
bog ;  only  the  lightest  persons  can  cross  it  without 
noticing  that  the  ground  is  not  firm  beneath  their 
feet,  while  he  whose  steps  go  through  learns  that, 
the  deeper  he  sinks,  the  more  yielding  becomes 
the  earth  beneath  him.  He  is  seized  with  panic ; 
he  struggles  to  gain  a  foothold,  but  he  does  not 
find  it,  for  there  is  none  to  find.  It  is  worse  than 
a  bog,  it  is  as  if  the  firm  compact  earth  itself  were 
torn  from  under  his  feet,  and  he  were  cast  upon 
the  open  sea. 

Such  was  the  impression  made  by  the  appear- 
ance of  "  Ghosts ;  "  it  was  overpowering  in  its 
tragedy,  and  all  the  more  effective  for  being  carved 
out  of  the  life  of  the  present  day.  The  boldness 


250  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

and  compass  of  its  thought  were  fairly  terrifying ; 
even  those  who  had  followed  Ibsen  step  by  step, 
and  from  drama  to  drama,  shrank  back  in  fear  at 
their  first  glimpse  of  the  abyss  that  yawned  before 
them,  and  endeavored  to  seek  safety  in  flight.  As 
for  the  public  in  general,  it  set  up,  through  its 
representatives  in  the  press,  a  scandalized  howl 
the  like  of  which  had  not  been  heard  since  the 
appearance  of  "  Love's  Comedy."  As  in  1862,  so 
in  1 88 1,  Ibsen  was  attacked  both  in  his  public  and 
his  private  character;  upon  him  were  heaped  all 
the  scurrilous  vulgarities  that  are  the  usual  weapons 
of  the  public  when  it  seeks  to  weaken  the  effect  of 
the  work  of  some  venturesome  and  genial  soul. 
As  one  of  those  who  at  first  failed  fully  to  realize 
the  range  and  significance  of  the  piece,  and  who 
in  consequence  occupied  a  non-partisan  position 
with  reference  to  it,  I  had  excellent  opportunities 
for  observing  this  mud-volcano  in  its  full  activity. 
The  sight  was  not  an  edifying  one,  but  nothing 
else  could  have  done  so  much  in  the  way  of  a 
propaganda  of  the  views  expressed  in  the  play,  as 
the  testimony  thus  borne  by  "  society "  to  its 
truths. 

That  the  reception  accorded  to  "  Ghosts  "  aroused 
Ibsen's  indignation  goes  without  saying.  After  a 
briefer  lapse  of  time  than  usual,  he  had  a  new  piece 
in  readiness,  which  was  at  once  a  defence  of  him- 


DRAMAS  OF  MODERN  LIFE.  251 

self  and  a  return  of  the  compliment  to  his  oppo- 
nents. Dr.  Tomas  Stockmann,  in  "  An  Enemy 
of  the  People,"  was  placed  in  a  situation  exactly 
similar  to  that  in  which  Ibsen  found  himself.  He 
did  not,  indeed,  attempt  to  show  that  the  current 
morality  of  marriage  flows  from  unhealthy  sources, 
but  he  did  something  precisely  analogous  when  he 
pointed  out  the  unhealthiness  of  the  baths  in  his 
native  village.  Upon  this  there  followed  vehement 
opposition,  he  was  deserted  at  all  hands,  indigna- 
tion was  aroused,  and  no  one  would  listen  to  him. 
The  situation  is  that  in  which  "  Ghosts  "  placed 
Henrik  Ibsen.  Then  he  permits  his  hero  to  make 
the  discovery  that  society  is  base  and  paltry,  upon 
which  Stockmann  speaks  out  both  for  the  author 
and  himself,  and  tells  society  the  truth.  It  is  not 
a  disgrace  to  be  persecuted  by  such  a  society,  but 
rather  an  honor  for  which  every  exalted  soul  must 
strive.  And  so  far  from  being  crushed  by  the  oppo- 
sition thus  aroused,  one  is  strengthened  by  it;  for 
the  man  who  is  in  full  accord  with  society  is  a  weak 
man,  an  insignificant  character,  bound  hand  and 
foot  by  social  customs  and  conventions,  while  "the 
strong  man  is  he  who  stands  most  alone." 

The  manner  in  which  the  attack  is  here  made 
is  both  new  and  interesting.  It  is  a  direct  attack 
all  along  the  line,  not  one  made  from  a  safe  and 
protected  position.  It  is  an  advance  as  far  as  it  is 


II EN R IK  IBSEN. 

possible  to  come,  an  onslaught  that  does  not  stop 
to  consider  whether  or  not  there  are  uncovered 
places  along  the  road  it  takes;  not  even  if  these 
places  may  be  made  points  of  attack  from  the  rear 
upon  the  storming  columns  of  thought. 

And  equally  new  and  interesting  is  the  fact 
that  here,  in  the  name  of  liberty,  war  is  waged 
upon  liberalism  and  that  tyranny  of  the  majority 
to  which  liberalism  has  given  birth.  Who  is  right, 
the  man  of  genius,  or  society ;  the  majority,  or  the 
individual?  "The  majority  is  always  right,  and 
always  sees  the  truth,"  answer  the  two  members  of 
the  majority, —  Hovstad  and  Billing.  "The  major- 
ity is  never  right,  —  never,  I  say,"  answers  Doctor 
Stockmann.  "  I  am  right,  and  a  few  others,  here 
and  there,  .  .  .  who  have  taken  hold  of  the  new, 
growing  truths,  too  young  in  the  world  of  con- 
sciousness to  have  gathered  any  majority  to  their 
support.  .  .  .  These  men  stand  out  as  an  advance 
guard,  so  far  ahead  of  the  rest  that  the  compact 
files  of  the  majority  have  not  yet  reached  them." 

;Esthetically  considered,  "  An  Enemy  of  the 
People  "  is  not  one  of  the  best  of  Ibsen's  works. 
He  is  hardly  to  be  forgiven  for  making  the  alle- 
gory of  the  water-pipes,  in  the  third  act,  give 
place  to  a  directly  polemical  attack  upon  society; 
this  transition  from  the  image  to  that  for  which  it 
stands  produces  a  little  of  the  effect  of  a  change 


DRAMAS   OF  MODERN  LIFE.  253 

of  theme.  But  it  affords  a  striking  measure  of  the 
strength  of  the  indignation  to  which  the  piece 
owed  its  origin.  So  mighty  was  this  indignation 
that  it  could  not  be  contained  within  its  allegorical 
setting,  but  had  to  shape  a  channel  for  itself,  just 
as  a  stream  breaks  through  its  restraining  banks 
at  the  time  of  the  spring  freshets. 

But  psychologically  considered,  Ibsen  has  in 
this  work  displayed  his  usual  mastery ;  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  Stockmann's  situation  strongly 
resembled  his  own,  he  succeeded  in  treating  it 
objectively.  The  character  is  far  from  being  a 
mere  mouth-piece  for  the  author's  opinions,  and 
is  an  exceptionally  successful  study  in  modern 
psychology.  Stockmann  is  individual  enough  to 
satisfy  the  most  exacting  naturalist,  and  his  de- 
velopment is  at  every  point  inevitable.  At  first, 
perhaps,  it  may  seem  inconsistent  that  a  man  who 
appears  so  unsuspecting  in  the  first  act  should 
speak  as  Stockmann  does  in  the  fourth.  But  we 
see  the  matter  in  a  different  light  upon  a  closer  ex- 
amination. It  is  precisely  because  he  is  at  first  so 
unsuspicious  that  the  insight  into  social  relations 
finally  gained  by  him  has  so  powerful  an  effect 
upon  him.  It  is  precisely  for  this  reason  that  he 
is  enabled  to  take  so  free  a  view  of  the  matter, 
and  so  undaunted  a  stand.  It  was  also  a  brilliant 
idea  in  the  author  to  represent  him  as  absent- 


254  HENRI K  IBSEN. 

minded;  the  very  fact  that  he  is  apt  to  forget 
little  things  makes  it  easy  for  him  to  overlook  all 
minor  considerations  and  fix  his  undivided  atten- 
tion upon  the  principal  thing.  He  is  a  wholly 
new  and  original  figure  in  Ibsen's  gallery,  although 
his  development  follows  in  the  path  of  many  of  his 
predecessors. 

Yet  there  is  something  new  in  this  very  develop- 
ment, something  that  takes  us  farther  than  the  ear- 
lier works.  Like  Falk,  Brand,  Nora,  and  the  others, 
Stockmann  ends  in  isolation;  but  isolation,  in  this 
case,  is  not  synonymous  with  flight  from  society. 
There  is,  indeed,  a  moment  in  which  Stockmann 
thinks  of  flight.  "  If  I  only  knew  of  some  primi- 
tive forest  or  some  South  Sea  island  to  be  bought 
cheaply,"  he  says;  and  even  if  he  cannot  find 
such  a  refuge,  at  all  events  he  will  go  away  some- 
where. "  We  will  live  no  longer  in  the  midst  of 
such  corruption.  Pack  up  as  quickly  as  thou 
canst,  Katrine ;  the  sooner  we  get  away  the  bet- 
ter." But  he  abandons  this  plan  upon  reflection ; 
he  stands  by  his  post  to  win  followers  to  his  side 
and  renew  the  conflict.  ''  Here  is  the  battle- 
field ;  here  shall  the  combat  take  place ;  here  will 
I  conquer !  Shall  I  perchance  be  driven  from  the 
field  by  public  opinion  and  a  compact  majority 
and  similar  abominations?  No,  thank  you!  For 
my  purpose  is  simple,  and  clear,  and  straight- 


DRAMAS  OF  MODERN  LIFE.  255 

forward.  I  will  beat  it  into  the  heads  of  these 
curs  that  the  liberals  are  the  most  insidious  foes 
of  freemen,  that  party-platforms  are  the  death- 
warrant  of  all  vital  truth,  that  considerations  of 
expediency  turn  morality  and  justice  topsy-turvy, 
and  that  as  a  result  of  all  this  it  has  become  hor- 
rible to  live  here !  "  Disregarding  Stockmann's 
peculiar  forms  of  expression,  we  may  see  in  these 
words  the  programme  adopted  by  Ibsen  after 
"  Ghosts  "  had  been  rejected  by  the  general  public 
of  the  Scandinavian  countries.  It  was  a  distinct 
and  energetic  return  of  the  compliment.  He  was 
not  the  man  to  be  frightened  as  easily  as  that. 

But  after  the  fire  that  had  blazed  up  in  "  An 
Enemy  of  the  People  "  had  subsided,  a  sort  of  de- 
spondency seemed  to  settle  upon  Ibsen.  What  was 
the  use  of  it,  after  all?  Were  men  really  capable 
of  adopting  the  ideal  standards  of  his  work?  Did 
their  condition,  on  the  whole,  make  it  possible  to 
live  lives  of  truth  and  freedom?  Were  the  condi- 
tions of  such  a  life  not  confined  to  the  few,  the 
exceptions ;  and  was  not  falsehood  as  necessary  for 
the  average  man  as  air  and  food  for  us  all?  It  had 
been  said  of  Brand  that  "  his  morality,  carried  to 
its  logical  conclusion,  would  bring  half  mankind  to 
starvation  through  love  of  the  ideal ;  "  was  this  not 
true,  after  all?  And  what,  if  it  should  be  true,  not 

only  of  Brand's  morality,  but  of  Ibsen's  whole  ideal 

17 


256  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

view  of  life?  Was  it  not  senseless  to  go  about  mak- 
ing the  uncompromisingly  ideal  demand  of  every- 
day people? 

There  came  to  Ibsen  a  period  when  his  mood 
was  such  that  he  asked  himself  these  questions, 
and,  for  a  time,  he  was  almost  ready  to  answer 
them  in  the  affirmative. 

So  he  once  more  brought  forward  his  ideal 
heaven-stormer,  looked  at  him  in  another  aspect, 
placed  him  under  new  conditions,  and,  to  correct 
the  impression,  shaped  a  contrasting  figure  to  go 
with  him.  The  work  in  which  this  plan  was  car- 
ried out  is  the  saddest  and  most  pessimistic  that 
he  has  written.  Brandes  and  others  have  justly 
urged  that,  back  of  Ibsen's  pessimistic  view  of  hu- 
man nature,  there  lies  a  markedly  optimistic  faith 
in  its  capability  of  being  made  better.  When  he 
wrote  "  The  Wild  Duck,"  it  almost  seems  as  if  this 
faith  had  for  a  moment  betrayed  him. 

Gregers  Werle  has  neither  Brand's  strength  nor 
Stockmann's  belligerency;  he  is  a  poor,  unfortu- 
nate dreamer,  everywhere  out  of  place,  seeming 
to  have  no  other  object  in  the  world  than  "  to 
be  the  thirteenth  at  table."  He  has  the  best  opin- 
ion of  mankind,  and  the  most  honest  purpose  to 
help  where  help  is  needed,  but  whenever  he  takes 
hold  of  anything,  he  only  makes  mischief,  because 
his  idealism  and  his  optimism  mistake  both  means 


DRAMAS  OF  MODERN  LIFE.  257 

and  end.  He  would  lift  his  childhood's  friend  from 
out  of  the  bog  into  which  he  has  sunk,  and  thinks 
that  this  may  be  done  merely  by  bringing  the  truth 
to  light;  but  the  only  result  of  his  efforts  is  to 
make  that  friend  reveal  the  entire  extent  of  his 
paltriness.  He  would  persuade  Hedwig  to  sacri- 
fice herself  that  she  may  win  once  more  her  father's 
love,  but  he  only  succeeds  in  driving  her  to  com- 
mit suicide,  which  adds  a  new  feature  to  Hjalmar 
Ekdal's  repertoire  of  declamation.  Finally,  he 
gives  it  all  up,  and  quits  the  scene  to  put  himself 
out  of  the  world ;  for  life,  if  it  really  be  what  it 
now  appears  to  him,  is  not  worth  living. 

Diametrically  opposed  to  this  unhappy  Don 
Quijote,  we  have  Relling,  with  his  theory  of 
falsehood,  and  the  life  which  he  fits  to  it.  The 
world  is  a  wretched  place,  and  men  are  all  bung- 
lers ;  of  what  earthly  use  is  any  attempt  to  raise 
them  out  of  falsehood?  They  live  upon  lies; 
without  lying  they  would  be  as  uncomfortable  as 
a  frog  under  the  receiver  of  an  air-pump.  "  Take 
falsehood  from  an  average  man,  and  you  take  his 
happiness  as  well;  "  falsehood  is  the  stimulating 
principle  of  life,  —  it  is  like  the  issue  which  the 
physician  puts  upon  a  patient's  neck.  In  conse- 
quence of  this  view,  Relling  works  for  the  exact 
opposite  of  what  Gregers  is  striving  after;  he 
works  in  behalf  of  falsehood,  and  invents  lies  for 


HENRIK  IBSEN. 

those  who  cannot  hit  upon  sufficiently  stimula- 
ting lies  of  their  own.  He  makes  Molvik  fancy 
himself  to  be  devilish;  if  he  had  not  done  so 
"  the  poor  honest  hog  would  have  succumbed  to 
self-contempt  and  despair  years  ago."  And  he 
puts  it  into  Hjalmar  Ekdal's  head  to  go  about 
declaiming.  At  bottom,  both  he  and  Gregers 
Werle  have  the  same  purpose,  that  of  causing 
happiness  and  contentment;  but  their  means  are 
as  unlike  as  possible,  and  so  they  hate  one  an- 
other, and  inveigh  against  one  another,  as  only 
two  enlightened  combatants  can.  Relling  con- 
siders Gregers  as  nothing  less  than  an  idiot  suffer- 
ing from  a  fever  for  righteousness  and  a  delirium 
for  adoration.  And  Gregers  regards  Relling  as 
a  cynic  and  nothing  more.  But  Ibsen  has  a 
slightly  different  view  of  this  pessimistic  prophet 
of  falsehood ;  he  points  out  the  good  heart  that 
beats  back  of  this  work  in  the  service  of  false- 
hood ;  and  when  it  comes  to  an  estimate  of  Hjal- 
mar Ekdal,  he  sides  with  Relling  and  not  with 
Gregers. 

In  Ibsen's  gallery  of  bunglers  Hjalmar  Ekdal 
has  the  distinction  of  being  the  worst  of  them  all. 
Peer  Gynt  is  a  man  of  worth,  and  Stensgaard  a 
sterling  fellow  in  comparison  with  this  miserable 
being,  with  his  mouth  full  of  beer,  buttered  bread, 
and  empty  phrases,  and  enjoying  the  latter  almost 


DRAMAS  OF  MODERN  LIFE.  2$$ 

as  much  as  the  former.  ^  There  is  nothing  in  the 
world  that  will  not  serve  him  as  a  subject  to  de- 
claim upon;  events  themselves  cause  him  no 
emotion,  but  he  is  easily  stirred  by  hearing  him- 
self talk  about  them,  and  so  he  goes  about  enjoy- 
ing his  own  emotions  early  and  late.  The  figure 
is  powerfully  drawn,  with  broad  and  heavy  lines ; 
at  times  the  pencil  is  applied  with  such  force  that 
the  effect  is  almost  farcical.  But  we  cannot 
laugh  at  it  with  a  good  conscience ;  the  paltriness 
is  too  great  to  excite  healthy  laughter ;  it  only  ex- 
cites abhorrence  and  loathing.  If  the  average 
man  were  indeed  of  such  poor  calibre,  Relling 
would  be  absolutely  right,  and  Gregers  Werle 
absolutely  wrong;  but  then  Ibsen's  whole  fight 
against  vacillation  and  falsehood  would  have  been 
in  vain,  for  the  spirits  of  truth  and  freedom,  the 
pillars  of  the  society  that  shall  be,  would  be  for- 
ever homeless  among  men. 

The  despondency  which  produced  "  The  Wild 
Duck  "  was  not  of  long  duration.  In  Ibsen's  last 
work  it  has  disappeared,  and  his  idealism  appears 
anew,  in  a  nobler  and  more  lovable  shape  than 
ever  before. 

"  Rosmersholm  "  is  closely  related,  in  a  certain 
way,  to  Ibsen's  last  visit  to  Norway,  in  the  summer 
of  1885.  Since  his  last  previous  visit,  the  great 
political  struggle  had  been  fought  out,  and  had 


26O  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

left  behind  a  fanaticism  and  a  bitterness  of  feeling 
that  amazed  him.  He  was  struck  by  the  prevail- 
ing intolerance  of  tone  among  us ;  he  was  unpleas- 
antly affected  by  the  baleful  and  vulgar  manner  in 
which  persons,  rather  than  principles,  were  made 
the  object  of  attack.  The  sight  of  all  the  enmities 
which  the  struggle  had  evoked  made  a  sorrowful 
impression  upon  him.  People  who  had  formerly 
been  the  best  of  friends  were  now  the  worst  of 
foes,  —  not  from  having  given  personal  offence  to 
one  another,  but  merely  from  having  arrived  at  dif- 
ferent views  of  life.  Altogether  he  received  the 
impression  —  as  he  afterwards  observed  in  con- 
versation —  that  Norway  was  not  inhabited  by 
two  million  human  beings,  but  by  two  million  dogs 
and  cats.  This  impression  is  reproduced  in  his 
delineation  of  the  opposing  parties  in  "  Rosmers- 
holm."  The  bitterness  of  the  losing  party  has 
found  an  admirable  representative  in  Rector  Kroll, 
and  the  victorious  party's  cowardly  fear  of  speak- 
ing frankly  is  no  less  admirably  represented  by  the 
free-thinker  and  opportunist  Mortensgaard,  who 
considers  it  necessary  to  make  Christian  alliances. 
"  Peder  Mortensgaard  is  chief  and  lord  of  the 
future,"  says  Brendel.  "  I  have  never  stood  in  the 
presence  of  a  greater.  Peder  Mortensgaard  has 
the  gift  of  almightiness.  He  can  do  whatever  he 
will,"  because  "  he  never  will  do  more  than  he  can. 


DRAMAS  OF  MODERN  LIFE.  26 1 

Peder  Mortensgaard  is  capable  of  going  through 
life  without  ideals.  And  that,  —  mark  you  !  — 
that  is  the  great  secret  of  action  and  victory.  That 
is  the  sum  of  all  worldly  wisdom."  And  of  the 
struggle  in  its  general  aspect,  Rosmer  says  :  "  Men 
are  growing  evil  in  the  conflict  now  being  waged. 
Peace  and  joy  and  reconciliation  must  be  brought 
to  their  souls."  Humanity  tends  toward  some- 
thing nobler ;  the  mind  must  be  set  free  and  the 
will  purified.  And  even  if  Rosmer  is  not  the  man 
for  such  a  task,  yet  the  task  remains  as  that  which 
the  piece  has  in  view.  It  is  not  merely  for  the 
cause  of  truth  and  liberty  that  Ibsen  is  here  con- 
tending; it  is  for  the  cause  of  tolerance  and 
humanity  as  well. 

Still  deeper  than  the  contrast  between  parties  is 
the  contrast  between  what  Rosmer  and  Rebekka 
represent. 

Rebekka  was  the  incarnation  of  recklessness,  to 
begin  with.  "  I  believe  that  then  I  could  have 
carried  any  point  whatever,"  she  says.  "  For  then 
I  had  my  courageous,  free-born  will.  I  took  heed 
of  nothing,  gave  way  to  no  condition."  She  was 
Peer  Gynt's  exact  opposite  in  the  fact  that  there 
was  for  her  no  gap  between  conception  and  exe- 
cution, between  wish  and  act;  she  had  courage 
in  resolution  and  was  intrepid  in  action,  and  thus 
she  gained  so  immense  a  power  over  those  among 


262  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

whom  she  was  thrown,  —  those  whose  view  of  life 
had  made  them  feeble  and  discouraged.  They 
have  incomplete  and  vacillating  personalities ;  she, 
on  the  other  hand,  has  a  complete  personality  in 
her  way,  and  this  is  the  secret  of  her  superiority. 
And  besides  this  free-grown  will,  unchecked  in  its 
growth  by  circumstances,  she  has  the  emancipated 
view  of  life  that  these  circumstances  have  developed. 
No  prejudices  restrict  her  activity;  and  her  clear 
and  powerful  intellect  has  impelled  her  "  to  be  of 
the  new  era  that  was  dawning,  —  to  share  in  all  the 
new  ideas."  She  will  work  for  the  triumph  of"  the 
new  ideas,"  and  when  she  learns  that  Pastor  Ros- 
mer  has  been,  in  his  youth,  under  the  influence  of 
Ulrik  Brendel,  she  resolves  to  acquire  a  similar  in- 
fluence over  him,  that  she  may  win  him  over  to  the 
new  view  of  life. 

But  in  her  plan  there  are  also  mingled  motives 
of  a  purely  personal  character.  She  has  come 
from  Finland,  and  a  great  new  world  seems  to 
have  opened  before  her  here  in  the  South.  She 
has  lived  under  sad  and  degrading  conditions ;  an 
irresistible  desire  for  happiness  has  seized  upon 
her,  and  so  she  has  laid  her  plans  to  gain  access 
to  Rosmersholm,  convinced  that  there  happiness 
awaits  her,  in  one  way  or  another. 

But  hardly  has  she  arrived  when  she  is  seized 
by  a  violent  passion  for  Pastor  Rosmer,  —  "a  wild 


DRAMAS  OF  MODERN  LIFE.  263 

and  invincible  desire"  to  possess  him.  "It  came 
upon  me  like  a  storm  from  the  sea.  It  was  like 
one  of  our  Northern  winter  storms.  It  seizes  and 
bears  one  along  —  as  far  as  may  be.  One  cannot 
think  of  resisting."  And  she  stakes  every  thing 
upon  this  passion.  What  right  has  his  invalid  and 
worn-out  wife  to  impede  his  liberty  and  stand  in 
the  way  of  her  passion?  Beate  makes  his  life 
sorrowful  and  unhappy;  only  with  her  away  can 
there  be  any  thought  for  him  of  a  free,  happy,  and 
joyous  life.  So  she  drives  Beate  step  by  step  to 
suicide  in  the  Molle  torrent. 

A  year  has  passed  since  this  occurrence  when 
the  play  begins.  The  pleasantest  and  tenderest 
relation  has  been  established  between  Rebekka 
and  Rosmer,  —  a  relation  based  upon  love,  yet  not 
bearing  its  name ;  a  relation  having  all  the  confi- 
dence of  the  happiest  marriage,  but  without  its 
external  intimacies ;  a  relation  rich  in  cordiality 
and  devotion,  but  without  the  violence  of  passion ; 
a  relation  in  which  the  minds  embrace,  not  the 
bodies,  and  in  which  the  friendly  "  thou "  is  the 
only  token  of  affection  given  or  received. 

From  the  time  when  Rebekka  first  entered  the 
house  Rosmer  has  felt  himself  drawn  to  her.  He 
has  listened  to  her  words,  grasped  her  thoughts, 
and  read  in  her  books.  Lacking  in  independence, 
impressionable  as  he  is,  she  shows  herself  the  su- 


264  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

perior  in  all  the  questions  that  arise  in  their  inter- 
course, and  he  allows  himself  to  be  gradually  led 
away  from  his  former  ideal  of  life,  finally  coming 
to  share  her  views  unreservedly.  In  this  respect 
his  is  the  receptive  mind,  and  hers  the  active 
one. 

But  in  another  domain  this  relation  is  reversed. 
His  pure  and  noble  ways  of  thinking,  his  amiability, 
and  his  humanity  exert  a  refining  influence  upon 
her.  Her  robust  will  is  softened  and  subdued  by 
living  with  him,  and  her  "  ugly  sensual  desires  " 
are  calmed  and  lulled  to  sleep.  "  A  feeling  of 
tranquillity  came  upon  me,  —  a  quiet  like  that  of  a 
bird-cliff  beneath  our  midnight  sun."  She  realizes 
that  what  she  felt  before  was  not  love,  and  so  genu- 
ine love  comes  to  abide  with  her,  —  the  love  that 
asks  nothing  for  itself,  but  is  willing  to  sacrifice 
every  thing  for  its  object,  —  "  the  strong  love  which 
is  able  to  renounce,  which  is  content  with  such  a 
life  as  that  which  we  two  have  lived  in  common." 
And  when  her  aim  is  at  last  reached,  when  he  begs 
her  to  take  the  place  of  his  deceased  wife,  she 
dares  not  do  it;  for  she  now  perceives  that  her 
own  actions  have  forever  separated  her  from  him. 
Love  has  given  her  courage  to  confess  and  strength 
to  sacrifice ;  and  so  she  restores  to  him  his  lost  sense 
of  blamelessness,  and  his  faith  in  her  love,  giving 
him  renewed  confidence  in  his  power  to  ennoble 


DRAMAS  OF  MODERN  LIFE.  26$ 

men  by  declaring  everything  and  sacrificing  his 
life. 

But  back  of  these  shattered  individual  destinies 
there  may  be  discerned  two  diverse  life-principles, 
each  one-sided  and  inadequate.  In  Rosmer  we 
have  a  product  of  the  old  and  outworn  civilization 
that  weakens  both  view  and  will.  His  view  can  be 
emancipated,  but  his  will  is  weak  and  must  remain 
so.  In  Rebekka  we  have  a  product  of  unsophis- 
ticated nature;  her  view  is  emancipated,  and  her 
will  is  strong,  but  it  does  not  become  purified  until 
too  late.  So  both  these  representatives  of  an  im- 
perfect conduct  of  life  must  need  succumb,  but 
over  their  bodies  the  play  points  to  Ibsen's  great 
and  radiant  dream  of  the  future,  his  dream  of  the 
man  with  liberated  mind  and  purified  will.  This  is 
the  exalted  type  of  humanity  that  Rosmer  dreamed 
of  shaping,  —  the  happy  and  noble  being  who  shall 
live  a  life  of  freedom,  innocence,  and  joy.  This  is 
the  third  kingdom,  of  which  Maximos  and  Julian 
dreamed,  and  in  which  Henrik  Ibsen  has  never 
lost  his  faith. 

And  as  the  path  toward  such  a  goal,  our  atten- 
tion is  directed  to  self-sacrificing  love,  the  opposite 
of  selfishness.  To  extol  this  love,  "  Rosmersholm  " 
was  written;  this  is  the  ennobling  and  exalting 
power  in  which  the  play  finds  its  credo.  And  the 
credo  is  not  merely  of  the  play ;  it  is  Ibsen's  own. 


266  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

As  he  has  scourged  incompleteness  of  life  and 
falsehood  in  the  name  of  truth  and  freedom,  so,  in 
the  name  of  self-sacrificing  love,  he  has  done 
battle  with  selfishness. 

Truth,  freedom,  and  love  are  the  three  corner- 
stones of  the  edifice,  noble  in  proportion  and 
serious  in  purpose,  that  the  poet  has  erected  in  the 
course  of  years. 

If  we  look  at  this  edifice  as  a  whole,  we  cannot 
fail  to  be  impressed  with  its  completeness.  The 
development  of  Ibsen's  mind  shows  a  logical 
sequence  that  is  assuredly  unique  among  poets. 
He  has  never  turned  about,  never  taken  a  leap, 
but  has  moved  steadily  forward  from  point  to 
point.  The  standpoint  which 'he  occupies  at  pre- 
sent is  very  far  from  that  which  he  occupied  at  the 
start,  and  the  intermediate  standpoints  have  been 
numerous;  it  follows,  then,  as  a  matter  of  course, 
that  he  has  abandoned  much  to  which  he  formerly 
held.  It  has  been  with  him  as  with  one  who, 
travelling  through  a  country,  loses,  with  every  new 
perspective  opened  before  him,  something  of  his 
view  of  the  road  that  is  left  behind ;  the  principal 
fact  to  be  considered  is  that  his  point  of  view  has  be- 
come ever  higher,  that  his  outlook  has  grown  more 
and  more  free  from  work  to  work.  His  intellectual 
development  has  been  in  a  path  that  led,  not  only 
straight  forward,  but  uninterruptedly  upward. 


DRAMAS  OF  MODERN  LIFE.  267 

And  this  law  holds  good  for  the  development  of 
his  special  creative  faculty.  As  his  historical 
dramas  surpassed  his  romantic  ones,  so  his  dramas 
of  modern  life  dramatically  surpass  those  dealing 
with  historical  subjects. 

A  whole  treatise  might  be  written  upon  the 
dramatic  form  of  these  later  works,  and  such  a 
treatise  doubtless  will  at  some  time  be  written,  for 
Ibsen  is  technically  as  remarkable  among  latter- 
day  writers,  as  he  is  spiritually.  His  work  is  epoch- 
making  in  the  history  of  dramatic  art,  and  will 
doubtless  exert  a  marked  influence  over  the  dra- 
matic composition  of  the  future.  At  the  present 
time  there  is  no  other  dramatist  in  Europe  of 
whom  this  may  be  said. 

The  drama  has  not  kept  pace  with  the  general 
development  of  our  century;  it  has  been  over- 
shadowed by  the  novel,  which  has  taken  so  pre- 
dominant a  place,  that  it  may  almost  be  considered 
as  the  special  art-form  of  modern  times.  And  it 
owes  this  conspicuous  position  to  the  fact  that  it 
has  most  completely  satisfied  the  demands  of  our 
age  for  truth  and  naturalism. 

The  drama  has  not  succeeded  in  meeting  this 
demand.  The  conventional,  which  has  been  ban- 
ished from  the  novel,  still  holds  sway  in  the 
drama.  In  Augier,  in  Alexandre  Dumas  fils,  in 
Sardou, — that  is  to  say,  in  the  most  prominent 


268  HENR1K  IBSEN. 

dramatists  of  our  age,  —  there  is  so  much  of  the 
conventional  that  a  naturalist  critic  like  Emile 
Zola  is  abundantly  justified  in  judging  them 
severely.  Even  in  Zola's  own  dramatic  works 
—  "  Therese  Raquin,"  for  example  —  the  conven- 
tional plays  so  great  a  part  that  one  can  hardly 
think  of  them  as  written  by  the  chief  of  the 
naturalistic  school. 

In  Ibsen's  dramas  of  modern  life  the  conven- 
tional has  disappeared,  and  he  has  been  success- 
ful in  the  invention  of  a  new  dramatic  formula, 
corresponding  to  the  naturalistic  formula  in  the 
novel.  The  characteristic  feature  of  this  formula 
is  that  the  piece  never  begins  where  an  ordinary 
piece  would  begin ;  it  starts  out,  on  the  contrary, 
from  what  would  be  the  closing  point  of  an  ordi- 
nary play.  All  of  Ibsen's  later  pieces  are  really 
nothing  more  than  so  many  grand  final  catas- 
trophes. The  situation  is  fully  defined  before 
the  play  begins;  all  the  critical  moments  are 
past,  and  it  becomes  the  task  of  the  play  merely 
to  illuminate  the  given  situation,  and  to  carry  it 
out  to  its  remotest  consequences.  Had  an  ordi- 
nary dramatist  written  "  A  Doll  Home,"  Nora's 
forgery  would  have  found  its  place  as  a  climax 
midway  in  the  play,  and  its  consequences  would 
have  been  presented  in  the  last  act.  Ibsen,  on 
the  other  hand,  makes  of  the  consequences  the 


DRAMAS  OF  MODERN  LIFE.  269 

principal  matter,  by  representing  the  act  as  hav- 
ing occurred  before  the  rise  of  the  curtain.  An 
ordinary  dramatist  would  not  have  left  Rebekka 
West's  intrigue  with  Fru  Rosmer  out  of  the  play ; 
he  would  have  shown  it  to  us.  Ibsen  is  content 
to  analyze  its  inner  and  outer  consequences. 

This  analytic  method  of  dramatic  construction  is 
analogous  with  the  method  of  ancient  tragedy,  as 
constructed  by  Sophocles,  while  in  our  own  century 
Schiller,  in  "  Maria  Stuart,"  experimented  with 
it.  That  which  is  great  and  epoch-making  in 
Ibsen's  application  of  this  method  is  that  he  has 
discovered  the  power  of  the  analytical  drama  to 
produce  a  naturalistic  picture  in  the  dramatic 
form.  While  the  ordinary  drama  can  offer  but 
a  suggestion  of  psychological  conditions,  the  ana- 
lytic drama  is  able  to  give  a  rich  and  detailed 
soul-portraiture ;  it  can  make  men  divulge  their 
most  secret  thoughts,  and  this  without  resort  to 
monologue  or  other  improbable  devices. 

Ibsen  has  perceived  this  fact  and  put  it  to  use ; 
and  his  dramas  of  modern  life  have  been  given, 
in  consequence,  the  unique  stamp  of  actuality 
which  characterizes  them. 

At  the  same  time  the  dialogue  has  steadily 
grown  more  and  more  natural.  Most  dramatists 
are  guilty  of  the  great  mistake  of  making  their 
characters  speak,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  the 


2/0  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

language  of  the  author.  With  Ibsen  each  char- 
acter speaks  in  his  own  language;  and  they  do 
this  so  consistently  that  the  peculiarities  of  each 
appear  in  the  least  details.  He  who  has  once 
read  "An  Enemy  of  the  People,"  "The  Wild 
Duck,"  or  "  Rosmersholm,"  will  recognize  one  of 
the  lines  of  Doctor  Stockmann,  or  Gina  Ekdal, 
or  Ulrik  Brendel,  among  a  hundred  others. 

As  the  creator  of  the  analytical  drama  of  modern 
life,  Ibsen  has  won  a  conspicuous  place  in  the  lit- 
erature of  our  century,  and  the  great  attention  re- 
cently attracted  to  his  works  in  Germany  shows 
that  he  is  gaining  a  really  European  fame.  Since 
Holberg's  time  no  other  Norwegian  writer  has 
played  so  important  a  part  in  Germany  as  that 
played  by  Ibsen  at  the  present  moment.  His 
works  promise  to  mark  an  epoch  in  German  litera- 
ture ;  for  a  large  number  of  the  younger  authors 
and  critics,  with  his  name  upon  their  banner,  have 
declared  their  opposition  to  the  German  poets  of 
the  older  generation. 

But  the  great  public  has  not  yet  accorded  him 
full  recognition,  —  not  in  Germany,  and  even  less  in 
Norway.  It  does  not  feel  at  ease  face  to  face  with 
this  severe  judge;  it  is  made  uncomfortable  by  his 
poetry,  and  frightened  by  its  tragic  power.  The 
depth  of  his  thought  makes  unusual  demands  upon 
the  intelligence  of  an  audience,  and  so  he  is  con- 


DRAMAS  OF  MODERN  LIFE.  2JI 

sidered  heavy  and  difficult  of  comprehension.  He 
is  often,  indeed,  wholly  misunderstood,  as  has  been 
shown  in  many  instances. 

But  he  goes  tranquilly  his  own  way  without 
asking  for  the  applause  of  the  many.  "  Neither 
thanks  nor  menaces  may  touch  him  who  wills 
absolutely  what  he  wills."  He  has  solved  the 
problem  of  "being  himself,"  and  for  that  reason 
is  he  so  imposing  a  figure. 

This  mighty  personality  is  also  revealed  in  his 
outward  form.  As  is  well  known,  he  is  not  tall  of 
stature,  but  he  makes  an  imposing  impression. 
His  chest  is  very  powerfully  developed,  and  his 
head  is  in  proportion.  The  oval  of  his  face  is 
framed  by  gray  hair  and  beard,  sticking  out  in  all 
directions  with  a  luxuriance  rare  in  men  of  Ibsen's 
age.  The  compressed  lips,  the  steady  gaze  through 
the  spectacles,  and  the  heavy  eyebrows,  produce 
an  impression  of  resolution  in  which  all  the  feat- 
ures share ;  and  above  all  there  rises  so  powerfully 
shaped  a  brow  that  one  is  almost  tempted  to  liken 
it  to  the  forehead  idealized  in  the  Zeus  of  Otricoli. 

The  whole  figure  gives  the  impression  of  enor- 
mous strength.  When  in  conversation,  upon  one 
occasion,  he  likened  Grundtvig  to  one  of  the  low 
but  stoutly  built  Roman  oaks,  I  thought  in  my  own 
mind  that  the  figure  was  as  characteristic  of  his 

own,  as  of  Grundtvig's  outward  form. 

18 


2/2  HENR1K  IBSEN. 

No  one  has  ever  heard  of  his  being  sick.  Even 
those  infirmities  which  usually  come  with  age  have 
been  spared  him.  He  impresses  one  as  vigor 
personified.  He  eats  with  an  appetite  that  many 
a  young  man  might  envy,  and  is  not  affected  by 
draughts  or  wind,  by  cold  or  rain. 

With  his  wife,  Susannah  Daae  Ibsen,  Thoresen 
by  birth,  a  daughter  of  Dean  Thoresen,  of  Bergen, 
and  a  step-daughter  of  the  authoress  Magdalena 
Thoresen,  —  as  well  as,  until  recently,  with  Dr. 
Sigurd  Ibsen,  his-  son,  at  present  an  attache  of  the 
Swedish-Norwegian  legation  at  Washington,  he 
has  enjoyed  a  quiet  and  contented  domestic  life 
in  Germany  or  Italy,  since  his  departure  from 
Norway.  He  is  method  personified  in  everything 
that  he  undertakes.  One  would  search  far  before 
finding  another  man  whose  days  are  so  methodi- 
cally marked  out  as  those  of  Henrik  Ibsen. 

He  rises  at  seven  in  summer  and  a  little  later  in 
winter.  He  takes  plenty  of  time  in  dressing ;  he 
has,  in  fact,  acquired  the  habit  of  walking  about 
revolving  his  poetic  plans  while  putting  on  his 
clothes,  so  it  often  takes  him  an  hour  or  two  to 
get  ready.  Then  he  eats  a  light  breakfast,  and  at 
the  stroke  of  nine  sits  down  at  his  writing-desk. 
At  one  o'clock  he  leaves  his  desk,  and  takes  a  little 
walk  before  dinner.  In  the  afternoon  he  reads; 
he  sups  early,  and  goes  to  bed  early.  Thus  his 


DRAMAS  OF  MODERN  LIFE.  273 

days  are  divided  year  out  and  year  in.  Even 
when  upon  his  travels  he  endeavors,  as  far  as 
possible,  to  live  in  his  usual  way. 

Ibsen  has  grown  less  reserved  with  years,  and 
is  quite  free  in  conversation  when  but  one  or  two 
are  present.  In  the  presence  of  many,  however, 
it  is  still  difficult  for  him  to  express  himself;  he 
feels  the  "  shyness  of  soul "  of  which  Jatgeir  the 
skald  speaks.  He  feels  entirely  free  only  when  at 
work. 

His  methods  of  composition  are  interesting  and 
characteristic.  When  he  has  selected  his  material, 
he  turns  it  over  in  his  mind  for  a  long  while  before 
setting  pen  to  paper.  A  great  deal  of  this  think- 
ing is  done  while  taking  long  and  solitary  walks. 

When  the  whole  plan  is  thought  out  in  general 
outline  he  makes  a  rough  sketch  of  it,  which  he 
then  proceeds  to  •  shape,  and  this  is  done  very 
rapidly.  Finally  the  manuscript  is  complete  ;  but 
this  manuscript  is  considered  a  mere  preliminary. 
Not  until  it  is  completed  does  he  begin  to  feel 
acquainted  with  his  characters,  to  know  their  dis- 
positions, and  to  feel  sure  of  the  manner  in  which 
they  will  express  themselves.  So  this  first  manu- 
script is  worked  over  into  a  second,  and  from  the 
second  a  third  is  carefully  written  out.  He  never 
dispatches-  a  manuscript  until  carefully  re-written 
in  its  final  form. 


274  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

Summer  is  the  best  season  for  work  with  him. 
In  winter  he  is  mainly  occupied  in  thinking  out 
his  plans.  In  the  summer  he  puts  them  into  exe- 
cution. Nearly  all  of  his  works  have  been  written 
in  the  summer  months.  Of  those  published  since 
he  left  Norway  in  1864,  only  two,  "The.  Young 
Men's  Union  "  and  "  Emperor  and  Galilean,"  were 
written  in  winter. 

When  he  sets  about  the  execution  of  one  of  his 
plans,  he  takes  only  what  food  is  absolutely  neces- 
sary. A  small  piece  of  bread  and  half  a  cup  of 
black  coffee  is  all  that  he  takes  before  sitting  down 
to  his  desk  in  the  morning.  He  thinks  that  he 
would  be  impeded  in  his  work  if  he  were  to  eat 
more. 

Once,  when  I  visited  him  in  Munich,  I  was 
amazed  to  notice  how  small  and  close  his  study 
was.  But  this  is  explained  by  the  fact  that  he 
never  shuts  himself  in  while  at  work.  He  has  to 
pace  back  and  forth  through  three  or  four  rooms 
while  writing  his  plays.  So  he  spends  four  hours 
every  forenoon  pacing  and  writing,  writing  and 
pacing,  now  and  then  taking  a  pull  at  a  pipe. 
Otherwise,  he  never  smokes  tobacco. 

During  these  hours  of  work  he  must  be  alone. 
His  wife  is  the  only  one  whose  presence  does  not 
disturb  him,  and  even  she  keeps  out  of  the  way  as 
much  as  possible. 


DRAMAS  OF  MODERN  LIFE.  2J$ 

It  is  during  these  solitary  and  restless  pacings 
to  and  fro  that  Henrik  Ibsen  has  written  those 
profound  and  daring  masterpieces,  that  have 
opened  the  eyes  of  literary  Europe  to  see  in 
him  one  of  the  strongest  and  best-equipped  per- 
sonalities of  our  age. 

NOTE. —  The  biography  as  written  by  Henrik  Jaeger,  and 
published  in  1888,  when  Ibsen  was  sixty  years  old,  ends  at 
this  point.  The  following  supplementary  chapter,  describ- 
ing the  six  plays  subsequently  written,  has  been  prepared  by 
the  translator  of  the  present  volume. 


VII. 

THE  END  OF  THE  HISTORY. 

year  of  Ibsen's  sixtieth  anniversary  wit- 
-•-  nessed  the  publication  of  "  The  Lady  from 
the  Sea."  The  history  of  this  play  seems  to  be 
connected  with  Ibsen's  summer  visit  to  Norway 
three  years  earlier.  He  had  remained  most  of  the 
time  at  the  seacoast  town  of  Moldc,  a  stopping- 
place  for  tourists  on  their  way  to  the  North  Cape. 
The  play  seems  to  be  based  in  part  upon  his  im- 
pressions of  the  summer  life  of  this  place,  aroused 
to  a  brief  season  of  activity  by  the  impact  of  the 
tourist  folk,  whose  numbers  had  grown  greatly 
during  the  period  of  Ibsen's  self-imposed  exile 
from  his  native  land.  But  in  still  greater  part  the 
play  is  based  upon  the  poet's  impressions  of  the 
sea  itself.  An  English  writer  speaks  of  this  so- 


THE  END   OF  THE  HISTORY.  2 77 

journ  in  the  following  terms :  "  He  would  stand 
for  hours  on  the  landing-pier,  gazing  down  into 
the  depths  or  up  at  the  distance.  And  when,  in 
the  following  year,  he  was  selecting  a  retreat  for 
the  summer  months,  he  went  to  Jutland,  instead 
of  to  the  Tyrol  as  usual,  and  again  it  was  the  sea 
which  enchanted  and  absorbed  him  as  he  wan- 
dered alone  on  the  sandy  shore." 

"The  Lady  from  the  Sea"  is  a  title  literally 
translated  from  an  expression  which,  in  slightly 
altered  form,  also  means  "  mermaid."  Throughout 
the  work  Ibsen  plays  upon  the  two  meanings  of 
the  expression,  which  thus  serves  him  as  a  vehicle 
for  the  symbolism  which  is  nearly  always  to  be 
found  in  his  writings.  The  central  figure  of  the 
play  is  a  woman,  Ellida  Wangel,  whose  childhood 
has  been  passed  in  a  lonely  lighthouse,  and  whose 
nature  has  become  possessed  of  the  very  spirit  of 
the  sea,  its  vastness,  its  unfathomable  depth,  and 
its  uncontrollable  freedom.  To  her  there  had 
appeared  one  day  a  sailor,  a  ship's  officer  who 
was  also  a  fugitive  from  justice.  She  had  been 
captivated  by  the  thought  of  his  free  and  irre- 
sponsible life,  and  the  two  had  entered  into  a 
sort  of  betrothal,  the  man  assuring  the  woman 
that  he  would  one  day  return  to  claim  her,  and 
that  when  the  day  came,  she  must  be  prepared  to 
go  away  with  him.  Several  years  have  passed 


2/8  HENRIK .  IBSEN. 

since  then  when  the  play  opens;  the  sailor  has 
been  reported  as  dead,  and  Ellida  has  become 
the  second  wife  of  Dr.  Wangel,  a  well-to-do 
physician,  much  older  than  herself,  and  the  father 
of  two  fairly  grown  daughters.  The  union  has 
not  proved  altogether  happy,  for  the  thought  of 
her  strange  lover  lies  upon  Ellida's  mind  as  an 
obsession,  and,  although  she  thinks  him  dead,  her 
imagination  often  pictures  him  as  rising  from  the 
sea  to  claim  her.  She  feels  that  her  will  would 
not  be  strong  enough  to  resist  such  a  demand 
upon  her,  and  this  feeling  creates  an  estrange- 
ment between  herself  and  the  family  with  which 
she  has  become  united.  The  husband  and  daugh- 
ters are  sensible  of  this  estrangement,  but  know 
nothing  of  its  cause.  The  state  of  Ellida's  mind, 
as  thus  portrayed,  is  one  that  clearly  places  her  in 
the  shadowy  limbo  between  sanity  and  insanity, 
in  that  borderland  of  the  mental  life  which  Ibsen 
has  so  often  explored  with  sharp  penetration  and 
delicate  art. 

The  opening  scenes  of  the  play,  by  means  of  a 
series  of  incidents  contrived  with  great  technical 
skill,  place  this  character  before  us,  and  at  the 
same  time  cause  us  to  surmise  that  her  strange 
early  lover  is  still  alive.  She  is  impelled  to  dis- 
close her  secret,  at  first,  and  in  part  only,  to 
Arnholm,  an  old  friend,  then,  a  little  later,  to  her 


THE  END   OF  THE  HISTORY.  279 

husband.  Soon  after  the  disclosure  has  been 
made,  the  long  absent  sailor  appears,  just  landed 
from  an  English  steamer.  He  comes  to  Ellida  in 
her  garden,  and  terrifies  her  by  his  demand  that 
she  depart  with  him  at  once.  Wangel  enters 
almost  immediately,  and  she  implores  her  husband 
to  save  her  from  herself. 

WANGEL.1  What  do  you  want  to  do,  then?  You  can't 
imagine  that  you  can  take  her  from  me  by  force,  —  against 
her  own  will ! 

THE  STRANGER.  No.  What  would  be  the  use  of  that? 
If  Ellida  is  to  be  mine,  she  must  come  of  her  own  free 
will. 

ELLIDA  \_starts  and  cries  out].    Of  my  own  free  will  —  ! 

WANGEL.   And  can  you  suppose  —  ? 

ELLIDA  [to  herself^.    My  own  free  will ! 

WANGEL.  You  must  be  out  of  your  mind.  Go  away  ! 
Go  away !  We  have  nothing  more  to  do  with  you. 

The  stranger  leaves,  warning  Ellida  that  he  shall 
come  for  her  the  following  night,  when  her  decision 
must  be  made  once  for  all.  Wangel,  alarmed  at 
his  wife's  agitation,  and  in  his  character  as  a  physi- 
cian understanding  it  better  than  another  man  would 
have  done,  seeks  to  calm  her,  and  during  the  next 
day  his  efforts  to  this  end  are  unceasing.  The  ref- 
erence to  "  her  own  free  will  "  has  deeply  impressed 

1  The  illustrations  of  this  play  are  taken  from  the  translation 
by  Mrs.  William  Archer. 


280  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

her,  and  she  asks  Wangel  to  give  her  back  her  free- 
dom in  order  that  she  may  face  the  situation  un- 
trammelled by  any  obligations,  and  thus  work  out 
her  own  destiny.  To  this  demand  Wangel  cannot 
then  accede,  and  thus  we  are  left  when  the  last 
fateful  act  is  reached. 

The  final  scene  is  laid  in  the  garden,  at  night. 
Wangel  and  Ellida  are  together  when  the  stranger 
appears.  Upon  the  reiteration  of  his  demand, 
Wangel  at  first  pleads  with  his  wife,  then  threatens 
the  stranger,  and  finally  grants  her  impassioned 
prayer  for  freedom  to  decide.  "  Now  you  can 
choose  in  freedom,  and  on  your  own  responsibility, 
Ellida."  It  is  this  suggestion  of  responsibility  that 
determines  the  direction  of  her  wavering  impulses, 
and  saves  her  for  sanity  and  the  orderly  life  of  society. 
Fixing  her  eyes  upon  the  stranger,  she  declares 
firmly  that  she  can  never  go  with  him.  "  Your 
will  has  no  longer  a  feather's  weight  with  me. 
For  me  you  are  a  dead  man,  who  has  come  home 
from  the  sea  —  and  who  is  returning  to  it  again. 
But  I  am  no  longer  in  awe  of  you :  you  allure  me 
no  more."  Turning  to  her  husband  as  the  stranger 
disappears  forever  from  her  life  and  her  imagination, 
she  says  :  "  Yes,  my  dear,  faithful  Wangel  —  now 
I  will  come  to  you  again.  Now  I  can,  for  now  I 
come  to  you  in  freedom  —  of  my  own  will  —  and 
on  my  own  responsibility." 


THE  END  OF  THE  HISTORY.  28 1 

The  lesson  of  all  this  is  clear  enough ;  it  is  the 
lesson  enforced  by  Ibsen  over  and  over  again,  the 
lesson  that  no  action  has  moral  worth  unless  it  is 
the  outcome  of  the  individual  will,  unhampered  in 
its  free  activity  by  any  extraneous  circumstances. 
Even  the  most  sacred  of  the  conventional  sanctions 
of  human  conduct  must  give  way  before  the  imperi- 
ous demand  of  the  individual  to  be  the  captain  of  his 
own  soul  and  the  master  of  his  own  fate.  If  Ibsen 
generally  prefers  to  make  women  rather  than  men 
the  embodiment  of  this  idea,  it  is  because  the  danger 
of  living. artificial  lives  is  for  them  the  greater,  be- 
cause in  the  present  condition  of  society  they  are 
the  greater  sufferers  from  the  tyranny  of  convention 
and  prescription. 

"  Hedda  Gabler,"  published  in  1890,  stands  in 
striking  contrast  to  "  The  Lady  from  the  Sea,"  both 
in  its  tragic  outcome,  and  in  its  freedom  from  more 
than  the  merest  traces  of  the  symbolism  that  is  so 
marked  a  characteristic  of  its  predecessor.  In  place 
of  a  soft  opalescence  of  tint,  it  has  a  hard  brilliance 
of  coloring  that  almost  offends  the  eye.  But  in 
technical  execution,  in  its  fitting  of  means  to  ends, 
in  its  use  of  the  telling  phrase  and  the  pregnant 
situation,  "  Hedda  Gabler "  is  a  masterpiece  of 
dramaturgic  virtuosity.  It  is  at  the  same  time 
one  of  the  least  pleasing  and  one  of  the  most  pow- 
erful of  Ibsen's  modern  plays. 


282  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

If  Ellida  was  a  woman  who  could  find  rest  and 
true  freedom  in  her  ultimate  submission  to  the 
moral  law,  Hedda  is  a  woman  whose  restlessness 
and  lack  of  any  controlling  purpose  save  the  satis- 
faction of  her  own  selfish  desires  are  such  that  a  tragic 
end  is  inevitable.  She  is  the  daughter  of  a  Norwe- 
gian officer,  who  has  bequeathed  to  her  a  pair  of 
pistols.  This  incident  must  be  mentioned  because 
the  pistols  play  an  important  part  in  the  play.  As 
a  young  woman  she  has  had  many  admirers,  among 
them  one  Ejlert  Lovborg,  a  man  of  brilliant  intellect 
and  unregulated  life,  with  whom  she  is  on  terms  of 
intimacy.  Herself  passionless  in  the  ordinary  sense, 
she  has  a  morbid  curiosity  concerning  the  conduct 
of  those  who  live  the  life  of  passion,  and  this  curi- 
osity Lovborg  helps  her  to  gratify.  After  some 
years,  a  lover  of  serious  intent  presents  himself  in 
the  person  of  Jorgen  Tesman,  a  scholar  of  the 
pedantic  type,  who  has  great  industry  and  small 
imagination.  She  marries  Tesman  without  loving 
him  in  the  least,  believing  that  his  prospects  are 
such  as  to  promise  her  a  becoming  social  position. 
The  couple  go  abroad  upon  a  wedding-trip,  which 
Tesman  devotes  almost  wholly  to  the  exploration 
of  archives  and  the  accumulation  of  material  for  his 
studies. 

The  play  opens  with  the  return  of  these  two  to 
Norway.  Hedda  is  already  tired  to  death  of  her 


THE  END   OF  J^HE  HISTORY.  283 

domestic  experiment,  and  is  prepared  to  seek  dis- 
traction wherever  it  may  be  found.  Tesman,  good, 
easy  man,  cannot  see  beneath  the  surface  of  her 
life,  and  imagines  that  she  is  no  less  contented  with 
life  than  he.  What  more  could  a  woman  ask? 
She  has  a  comfortable  home,  and  an  assured  social 
position.  She  is,  moreover,  the  wife  of  a  man  of 
growing  scholarly  reputation,  who  has  a  reasonable 
assurance  of  nomination  to  a  vacant  professorship. 
At  this  juncture  Lovborg  appears  upon  the  scene. 
He  has  reformed  his  dissipated  habits,  largely 
under  the  influence  of  Thea  Elvsted,  a  woman 
of  the  gentle  and  clinging  type,  between  whom 
and  Hedda  their  exists  the  strongest  possible  of 
contrasts.  Aided  by  Thea's  friendship,  Lovborg 
has  regained  his  intellectual  powers,  has  published 
an  important  book  upon  the  history  of  civilization, 
and  has  prepared  the  manuscript  of  another  and 
still  more  important  work.  He  has  thus  become 
a  possible  rival  to  Tesman  in  his  own  field,  and  the 
latter  is  made  uneasy,  although  too  good-hearted 
to  feel  really  envious  of  his  friend.  Speaking  for 
the  first  time  to  Tesman  of  his  manuscript,  Lovborg 
describes  it  as  a  continuation  of  the  published  work. 

TESMAN.   But,  my  dear  Ejlert,  your  book  comes  down 
to  our  own  times. 

LOVBORG.   So  it   does.     And  this  one  deals  with  the 

future. 


284  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

TESMAN.  The  future  !  Why,  good  heavens  !  We  don't 
know  anything  about  that. 

LOVBORG.  No.  But  there  is  a  thing  or  two  to  be  said 
about  it  all  the  same.  \_He  opens  the  package.]  Now 
here  — 

TESMAN.    But  that  is  n't  your  handwriting. 

LOVBORG.  I  dictated  it.  \_He  turns  over  the  pages.~\ 
This  first  part  is  about  the  forces  that  will  determine  the 
future  of  civilization.  And  this  other  \turning  the  page 
further  on\  —  this  is  about  the  course  that  civilization 
will  take. 

TESMAN.  Extraordinary  !  Now  I  should  never  have 
thought  of  writing  anything  about  that. 

HEDDA  [at  the  glass  door,  strumming  on  the  pane~\. 
Hm  —  No,  I  should  say  not. 

In  this  last  bit  of  dialogue,  Tesman's  whole  char- 
acter is  revealed,  as  well  as  the  scorn  felt  by  his 
wife  for  his  essentially  commonplace  mind.  It 
certainly  never  would  have  occurred  to  him  to 
attempt  a  forecast  of  the  future  of  civilization,  and 
to  Hedda  this  fact  is  deeply  significant. 

Hedda  has  no  very  definite  aim,  but  she  is  con- 
scious of  the  possession  of  powers  of  which  Tes- 
man  can  have  no  comprehension,  and  these 
powers  she  is  determined  to  exercise,  no  matter 
what  the  cost.  A  woman  of  truer  poise  and 
finer  instincts  would  seek  to  realize  the  joy  of 
life  (as  so  many  of  Ibsen's  women  do) ;  what 
Hedda  seeks  to  realize  is  the  joy  of  mastery,  the 


HENRIK    IBSEN 
(/;/  the  eighties} 


THE  END   OF  THE  HISTORY.  285 

satisfaction  of  influencing  the  lives  of  others,  and 
forcing  herself  into  their  reckoning.  Tesman's 
inert  stolidity  has  baffled  her  efforts,  and  she  must 
seek  another  object  for  the  exercise  of  her  baleful 
powers.  Lovborg  appears  on  the  scene,  and  her 
cravings  are  aroused.  He  has  reformed ;  she  will 
persuade  him  to  his  undoing.  He  has  found  con- 
tentment in  the  companionship  of  Thea ;  she  will 
destroy  that  contentment,  and  reawaken  the  old 
wild  impulses  within  his  breast.  That  she  is  de- 
liberately aiming  at  the  happiness  of  two  fellow- 
mortals  is  nothing  to  her ;  what  is  the  happiness 
of  others  in  comparison  with  the  wild  pleasure  of 
subduing  weak  wills  to  her  own  strong  one,  of 
shaping  human  lives  by  her  own  daemonic  power? 
In  this  unholy  design  she  is  only  too  successful. 
Playing  upon  Lovborg's  latent  vanity,  she  persuades 
him  to  drink  again.  He  falls  readily  into  his  old 
path,  spends  the  night  in  reckless  carousal,  and,  in- 
cidentally, loses  the  manuscript  of  his  precious 
new  work.  Tfye  papers  fall  into  Hedda's  hands, 
and  are  kept  by  her.  The  next  day  he  comes  to 
her,  remorseful  at  the  thought  of  his  lapse,  but  be- 
lieving that;he  himself  has  destroyed  his  book  in 
a  drunken  frenzy.  He  is  determined  to  make  an 
end  of  his  life,  and  Hedda,  instead  of  dissuading 
him,  finds  in  this  situation  a  supreme  opportunity 
for  the  exercise  of  her  power.  She  gives  him  one 


286  HENRI K  IBSEN. 

of  her  father's  pistols,  and  bids  him  do  it  "  in 
beauty."  With  this  mandate  ringing  in  his  ears, 
Lovborg  departs,  and  Hedda,  left  alone,  takes  his 
manuscript  from  her  desk,  and  deliberately  casts 
it,  leaf  by  leaf,  into  the  fire.  Her  purpose  is  ac- 
complished ;  she  has  destroyed  one  human  life,  and 
wrecked  the  happiness  of  another. 

In  the  last  act,  retribution  comes  upon  her. 
Lovborg's  death  has  been  followed  by  an  investi- 
gation, the  pistol  has  been  found,  and  Hedda's 
part  in  the  affair  promises  to  be  made  public. 
Brack,  another  of  her  early  admirers,  a  reptilian 
sort  of  person,  has  it  in  his  power  to  suppress  the 
evidence,  and  offers  to  do  so  upon  her  entering 
into  an  infamous  understanding  with  him.  But 
Hedda,  however  she  may  excite  our  repulsion  in 
other  ways,  is  not  that  sort  of  a  woman,  and  to 
her  this  is  no  solution  of  the  problem  that  now 
confronts  her.  She  has  a  horror  of  such  relation- 
ships, and  she  has  an  equal  horror  of  public  scan- 
dal. She  has  played  with  fire,  and  it  has  burned 
her;  she  must  now  face  the  consequences.  Her 
resolution  is  quickly  taken,  and,  fetching  from  her 
desk  the  pistol  still  left  her,  she  goes  into  the  back 
room.  A  shot  is  heard,  and  the  tragedy  is  ended. 

There  does  not  seem  to  be  any  particular  prob- 
lem in  the  play,  beyond  the  general  problem  of 
the  false  position  of  woman  in  our  modern  society. 

i 
I 


THE  END   OF  THE  HISTORY.  287 

As  long  as  the  individuality  of  woman  is  kept 
from  its  normal  healthy  development,  Ibsen  seems 
to  say,  just  so  long  will  all  sorts  of  aberrant  types 
make  their  appearance.  Ibsen's  women  are  usu- 
ally creatures  who  inspire  our  warmest  sympathies  ; 
they  are  intensely  womanly,  and  they  are,  as  a  rule, 
spiritually  superior  to  his  men.  But  for  once  he 
has  gone  to  the  other  extreme,  and  has  drawn,  as 
Brandes  remarks,  "  a  woman  who  is  more  manly 
than  most  men,  in  so  far  as  she  has  the  keenest 
perception  of  the  mawkishness  of  the  prevail- 
ing idea  of  goodness,  but  who  nevertheless  is  a 
morally  and  spiritually  unfruitful  being,  capable  of 
nothing  but  ruining,  destroying,  and  dying." 

With  "The  Master  Builder,"  published  in  1892, 
Ibsen  reverts  to  his  symbolical  manner,  and 
creates  a  situation  which  is  even  more  interesting 
for  its  suggestiveness  than  for  its  literal  content. 
It  will  be  remembered  that  he  once  wrote  con- 
cerning "  Brand "  that  the  problem  involved  in 
the  delineation  of  that  figure  was  not  essentially  a 
religious  one.  "  I  might  have  embodied  the  syl- 
logism in  the  person  of  a  sculptor  or  a  politician 
as  well  as  in  that  of  a  priest."  One  does  not  need 
to  have  read  far  in  his  Ibsen  to  understand  this 
remark,  to  appreciate  the  fact  that  with  this 
writer  the  problem  of  the  type  of  character  is 
everything;  the  environment  or  the  shape  given 

19 


288  HENRI K  IBSEN. 

is  little  or  nothing.  The  least  essential  thing, 
then,  about  Halvard  Solness,  the  principal  char- 
acter in  Ibsen's  new  play,  is  the  nature  of  his 
profession,  which  is  that  of  a  master  builder.  But 
when  we  come  to  ask  what  is  the  problem,  what 
the  type  that  the  author  has  sought  to  portray 
in  his  latest  work,  we  are  somewhat  puzzled  about 
our  answer.  It  is,  as  far  as  the  leading  character 
is  concerned,  a  study  in  morbid  psychology ;  but 
the  type  is  highly  complex,  and  does  not  readily 
lend  itself  to  definition. 

The  characters  of  the  play  are  these :  Halvard 
Solness,  the  master  builder,  a  man  in  middle  life ; 
Aline,  his  wife;  Doctor  Herdal,  the  family  phy- 
sician ;  Knut  Brovik,  a  decayed  architect,  and  his 
son,  Ragnar,  both  now  employed  by  Solness; 
Kaja  Fosli,  niece  of  Knut  Brovik,  also  employed 
by  Solness;  and  Hilda  Wangel,  a  young  woman 
of  whom  more  hereafter.  The  play  is  in  three 
acts,  all  of  which  occur  in  and  about  the  house 
occupied  by  Solness  both  as  a  place  of  business 
and  a  dwelling.  To  explain  the  action  of  the  play, 
we  must,  as  usual  with  Ibsen's  works,  recount  the 
past  events  which  it  involves. 

Solness  had  started  as  a  poor  boy  in  the  em- 
ploy of  Architect  Brovik.  His  fortune  began  with 
the  burning  of  the  family  home  of  his  wife,  to 
whom  he  was  early  married.  In  the  work  of  re- 


THE  END   OF  THE  HISTORY.  289 

building  he  found  an  opportunity  to  exercise  his 
skill,  and  was  thus  embarked  upon  a  successful 
professional  career.  But  the  burning  of  the  home 
had  tragic  consequences,  for  it  occurred  on  a 
winter  night,  and  the  exposure  brought  illness  to 
his  wife  and  death  to  the  twin  boys,  their  children. 
Professional  success  attended  his  steps  from  this 
time  on,  and  at  the  opening  of  the  play  his  posi- 
tion as  the  one  architect  of  the  district  is  unques- 
tioned. But  the  fatal  accident  of  twelve  years 
before  still  affects  both  the  lives  that  were  dark- 
ened by  it.  Both  continue  to  brood  over  their 
loss,  and  both  show  the  symptoms  of  incipient 
mental  derangement,  or,  at  least,  a  morbid  con- 
dition of  mind  that  borders  on  derangement.  As 
one  sign  of  psychological  disturbance,  Solness  is 
haunted  by  the  fear  that  his  position  is  not  secure, 
that  younger  men  will  spring  up  to  supplant  him, 
just  as  he  had  supplanted  Brovik.  This  fear  is 
emphasized  by  his  employment  of  young  Brovik, 
in  whom  he  recognizes  a  talent  that  he  seeks  to 
suppress.  Now,  Ragnar  Brovik  is  engaged  to 
marry  a  young  girl,  Kaja  Fosli  by  name.  Solness 
employs  this  young  woman  as  a  bookkeeper,  hop- 
ing thereby  to  keep  Ragnar  from  seeking  an  inde- 
pendent career.  But  Kaja,  soon  after  entering 
upon  her  work,  becomes  passionately  attached  to 
Solness,  who  seems  to  encourage  her  affection 


20X)  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

without  exactly  returning  it,  and  is  careless  of 
consequences,  so  long  as  he  may  keep  Ragnar 
under  his  control. 

When  the  play  opens,  Ragnar  has  just  had  the 
opportunity  to  design  a  villa  for  some  wealthy  peo- 
ple of  the  district,  and  wishes  his  employer  to  give 
the  plans  the  stamp  of  his  approval.  The  elder 
Brovik,  who  is  rapidly  failing  in  health,  wishes  to 
see  his  son  established  in  life  before  leaving  him 
forever,  and,  in  an  interview  with  Solness,  requests 
this  favor  for  his  son.  Solness  refuses  the  request, 
and  the  old  man  goes  away  sadly  disappointed. 
A  little  later,  in  a  scene  between  Solness  and  Dr. 
Herdal,  the  former  describes  the  way  in  which  Kaja 
had  come  into  his  employment.  She  had  appeared 
one  day  on  a  visit  to  her  uncle  and  cousin.  Solness 
had  stood  and  looked  at  her,  persistently  wishing 
that  he  might  have  her  in  the  office,  but  saying 
nothing  about  it.  The  next  day  she  had  come 
again,  and  acted  as  if  an  agreement  had  already 
been  made  between  them.  In  a  word,  Ibsen  seems 
to  attribute  to  Solness  the  power  of  telepathic 
suggestion.  This  idea  is  borne  out  by  what  fol- 
lows, since,  in  the  second  act,  after  relating  to  Hilda 
some  singular  experiences  in  his  past  history,  he 
asks  her : — 

"  Do  you  not  believe  this  too,  Hilda,  that  there  are  a 
few  picked  and  chosen  people  to  whom  has  fallen  the 


THE  END   OF  THE  HISTORY.  291 

grace,  the  power,  the  gift  to  wish  a  thing,  to  desire  a 
thing,  to  will  a  thing  —  so  persistently  and  so  —  inexora- 
bly—  that  they  must  get  it  at  last?  Do  you  not  believe 
this?" 

Solness  believes  this,  at  all  events ;  it  has  become 
his  idee  fixe ;  it  provides  a  clue  to  the  intricacies 
of  his  mental  life.  It  means  for  him  not  only  the 
power  of  projecting  his  thoughts  into  the  minds  of 
others,  but  also  the  power  of  so  affecting  material 
things  as  to  shape  them  to  his  wishes.  As  a  sub- 
jective fact,  the  author  is  perfectly  justified  in  at- 
tributing this  mania  to  Solness,  but  he  taxes  the 
scientific  reason  more  severely  than  is  allowable 
when  he  supplies  the  illusion  with  such  objective 
corroborations  as  that  already  given,  or  as  the  one 
to  be  mentioned  presently. 

In  his  talk  with  Herdal,  the  master  builder  is 
giving  confidential  expression  to  his  haunting  fear 
of  being  pushed  aside  by  the  younger  generation, 
and  has  just  said,  "  Some  time  youth  will  come 
this  way  and  knock  at  the  door,"  when  an  actual 
knock  is  heard,  and  Hilda  appears  upon  the  scene. 
She  is  the  younger  daughter  of  Dr.  Wangel  in 
"  The  Lady  from  the  Sea,"  now  grown  to  be  a 
young  woman  of  twenty-three.  Ten  years  before 
this  very  day,  Solness  had  celebrated  the  erection 
of  a  new  spire  upon  the  church  of  her  village.  It 
was  the  custom  for  the  builder,  upon  the  comple- 


HENR1K  IBSEN. 

tion  of  such  a  work,  to  climb  the  scaffolding,  and 
place  a  wreath  upon  the  weather-vane  of  the  spire. 
This  Solness  had  done,  amid  the  plaudits  of  the 
crowd;  and  of  this  the  child  Hilda  had  been  a 
spectator,  shouting  "  Hurra  for  Builder  Solness !  " 
and  excitedly  waving  a  flag.  Afterwards  Solness 
had  been  entertained  at  her  father's  house.  Hilda 
now  comes  to  tell  him  that  upon  the  day  of  the 
festival,  he  had  taken  her  in  his  arms,  kissed  her, 
and  promised  to  come  in  ten  years  and  make  her  a 
princess.  The  ten  years  are  now  up,  and  since  he 
has  not  come  to  her,  she  has  come  to  him.  Of  all 
this  story,  Solness  remembers  nothing,  but  with 
his  idte  fixe,  he  understands  that  he  must  have 
wished  it,  and  so  accepts  the  situation,  pretending 
to  recall  the  circumstances. 

Hilda,  upon  her  own  invitation,  remains  in  the 
house  as  a  guest  of  the  family,  Mrs.  Solness  mak- 
ing no  apparent  objection.  Solness,  who1  is  drawn 
toward  Hilda  by  a  strong  feeling  of  sympathy,  makes 
of  her  the  confidant  that  he  cannot  make  of  his 
sickly  and  brooding  wife,  and  the  second  act  (the 
next  day)  is  mainly  taken  up  by  conversations 
between  the  two.  Hilda  is  intended  by  the  author 
to  stand  in  sharp  contrast  to  Solness,  and  the  sym- 
pathy between  them  is  that  of  complementary 
natures.  His  mania  has  resulted  in  a  morbid  de- 
velopment of  conscience ;  she  is  the  personification 


THE  END   OF  THE  HISTORY.  293 

of  recklessness,  in  this  suggesting  the  character  of 
Rebekka  in  "  Rosmersholm."  The  thought  of  duty 
repels  her  ;  she  lives  in  her  passion  for  excitement, 
and  does  not  concern  herself  with  the  means  by 
which  it  may  be  satisfied.  In  his  conversation  with 
her,  Solness  reveals  the  secret  that  has  been  gnaw- 
ing at  his  heart  for  years.  Believing  that  his  wishes, 
if  sufficiently  intense,  must  become  translated  into 
objective  fact,  he  holds  himself  responsible  for  the 
tragic  event  that  had  bereft  him  of  his  children 
and  cast  a  dark  shadow  over  the  mind  of  his  wife. 
For  he  had  started  in  life  full  of  ambition,  and  he 
had  wished  that  the  old  house  might  burn  and  open 
a  way  for  his  ambition.  From  that  destruction  had 
dated  his  professional  success,  and  from  it  also  the 
morbid  sense  of  guilt  that  has  made  his  subsequent 

life  so  unhappy.     "  Is  it  not  frightful  to  think,"  he 

• 

says,  "  that  I  must  now  go  about  and  reckon  it  up, 
pay  for  it?  —  not  with  money,  but  with  human  hap- 
piness. And  not  merely  with  my  own ;  with  that 
of  others  too.  Do  you  see  that,  Hilda?  That  is 
what  my  artistic  success  has  cost  me  —  and  others. 
And  every  livelong  day  I  must  go  about  and  see 
the  price  paid  for  me  anew.  Again,  and  again, 
and  still  again." 

In  the  third  and  last  act  of  the  play,  following 
the  second  upon  the  same  day,  the  influence  of 
Hilda  upon  Solness  reaches  its  culmination.  He 


294  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

finds  in  her  the  warm  human  sympathy  for  which 
he  has  so  long  yearned,  and  which  it  has  been  use- 
less to  expect  from  his  wife.  Let  us  add  that  the 
communion  of  these  two  souls  is  purely  spiritual, 
and  that  there  is  no  touch  of  indelicacy  in  the  treat- 
ment of  the  situation.  The  part  of  the  wife  is, 
indeed,  throughout,  that  of  self-abnegation ;  she 
realizes  that  she  cannot  enter  into  her  husband's 
life,  is  ready  to  accept,  and  gratefully,  any  influence 
that  can  help  to  brighten  and  strengthen  it.  For  a 
moment  Hilda's  conscience  is  aroused  by  pity  for 
Aline,  but  the  impulse  is  transitory,  and  gives  way 
to  the  pleasure  that  she  feels  in  exalting  Solness 
above  his  normal  self,  in  lifting  him  for  a  time  out 
of  the  slough  of  despond  into  which  he  had  sunk. 
Solness  has  been  erecting  a  new  .house  for  his 
family,  and  the  building  is  ready  to  receive  its 
wreath  from  the  builder  according  to  the  custom 
already  mentioned.  But  Solness  confesses  that  he 
becomes  dizzy  upon  a  height,  and  that  the  episode 
of  ten  years  before,  when  he  himself  had  crowned 
the  church  spire,  and  captivated  Hilda's  imagination, 
was  an  exceptional  fact  in  his  life,  an  action  not 
since  repeated.  Hilda  urges  him  to  rise  above  him- 
self and  attempt  the  impossible  once  more ;  and, 
in  his  exaltation,  he  resolves'  to  undertake  the 
perilous  work. 

The  tragic  ending  soon  follows.     Solness  takes 


THE  END   OF  THE  HISTORY.  295 

the  wreath,  and,  to  the  astonishment  of  his  men, 
starts  to  mount  the  spire  with  it  himself.  He 
reaches  the  summit,  hangs  the  wreath  upon  the 
vane,  and  swings  his  hat  in  the  air.  Hilda  raises  a 
jubilant  cry,  in  which  the  others  join,  and  Solness, 
tottering,  falls  to  the  ground,  where  he  lies  lifeless. 
Word  is  brought  to  Hilda,  but  she  can  remember 
only  that  her  hero  has  once  more  realized  his  true 
self,  become  again  what  she  has  thought  him  during 
all  the  ten  years  of  waiting,  and  she  tenderly  says, 
as  the  curtain  falls,  "  My  —  my  master  builder." 

"  The  Master  Builder  "  is  no  doubt  one  of  the 
most  puzzling  plays  that  Ibsen  has  written  ;  it  is  also 
one  of  the  most  fascinating.  "  It  gives,"  in  the  words 
of  Dr.  Brandes,  "  at  one  and  the  same  time  a  sense 
of  enthralment  and  a  sense  of  deliverance."  This 
"  profoundly  symbolical  work  "  is  one  "  that  echoes 
and  re-echoes  in  our  minds  long  after  we  have  read 
it.  Great  in  its  art,  profound  and  rich  in  its  sym- 
bolic language  —  these  are  the  words  that  rise  to 
our  lips ;  and  impressed,  without  being  touched  or 
softened,  we  fall  to  brooding  and  pondering  over  its 
power." 

It  is  the  sadness  and  sweetness  of  the  play, 
rather  than  the  possession  of  symbolic  power, 
that  chiefly  impress  us  when  we  turn  to  "  Little 
Eyolf,"  published  in  1894.  Coming  after  "  Hedda 
Gabler,"  and  "  The  Master  Builder,"  this  play  is 


296  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

a  relief  to  the  reader,  for  it  is  simpler  in  plan 
and  more  obvious  in  significance.  Many  of  its 
passages  are  far-reaching  in  their  implications, 
and  strike  into  the  very  depths  of  the  soul ;  but 
the  reader  is  not  all  the  time  haunted  by  the 
suggestion  of  some  elusive  allegory,  some  hidden 
meaning  that  leads  him  a  will-o'-the-wisp  chase 
and  lands  him  in  a  bog  of  conjecture.  Even  the 
most  persistent  of  searchers  for  symbols  may 
possibly  be  content  to  take  this  play  for  what  it 
is,  and  see  in  it  nothing  more  than  a  direct 
transcript  of  life  under  ideal  conditions  arranged 
by  a  consummate  artistic  sense. 

Alfred  Allmers  and  his  wife,  Rita,  have  been 
married  for  some  ten  years,  and  have  one  child, 
a  boy  of  nine,  named  Eyolf.  The  child  has  been 
crippled  in  infancy,  and  is  just  reaching  the  age 
when  he  realizes  the  difference  between  himself 
and  other  boys  sound  of  limb.  The  father,  pas- 
sionately attached  to  his  child,  has  determined  to 
devote  himself  to  his  happiness,  and  bring  what 
harmony  is  yet  possible  into  a  life  so  unfitted  to 
battle  for  itself.  He  thus  states  his  new-found 
aim :  — 

"  I  will  try  to  bring  to  light  all  the  rich  possibilities  that 
are  dawning  in  his  childish  soul.  I  will  bring  to  full 
growth,  to  flower  and  fruit,  every  germ  of  noble  purpose 
within  him.  And  I  will  do  more  than  that  I  will  help 


THE  END   OF  THE  HISTORY.  297 

him  to  harmonize  his  wishes  with  what  things  are  attainable 
by  him.  For  now  they  are  not  in  harmony.  He  longs 
for  things  that  will  be  unattainable  all  his  life  long.  But 
I  will  create  joy  in  his  mind." 

These  plans  are  all  broken  off  by  the  accidental 
drowning  in  the  fjord  of  the  child,  whose  winsome 
figure,  like  that  of  Mamillius  in  "  The  Winter's 
Tale,"  makes  but  the  briefest  appearance  upon 
the  scene,  then  passes  from  our  sight,  although 
never  from  our  memory. 

The  remaining  two  acts  of  the  play  are  es- 
sentially a  study  of  two  women  and  their  relations 
with  Allmers.  The  one  is  his  wife,  the  other  is 
Asta  Allmers,  supposed  to  be  his  half-sister. 
With  the  latter  he  has  grown  up  from  childhood 
in  the  closest  intimacy.  Now,  following  close  upon 
the  loss  of  the  child,  comes  the  discovery  that  the 
supposed  relationship  of  brother  and  sister  does 
not  exist;  and  the  other  discovery,  which  both 
realize  as  by  a  lightning  flash,  but  which  neither 
ventures  to  commit  to  words,  that  they  are  more 
to  one  another  than  even  a  brother  and  sister  can 
be.  This  situation,  which  is  treated  with  the  great- 
est delicacy,  closes  the  second  act.  The  character 
of  Rita,  the  wife,  is  less  transparent  than  that  of 
Asta,  and  her  motives  are  not  so  easily  laid  bare. 
She  is  presented  to  us  as  attached  to  Allmers  to 
the  point  of  grudging  him  his  interest  in  his  intel- 


298  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

Icctual  pursuits,  his  affection  for  his  supposed  sister, 
and  even  his  absorption  in  the  child.  She  sees  with 
delight  the  prospect  of  a  marriage  between  Asta 
and  a  young  engineer,  who  has  for  some  time  been 
laying  siege  to  the  sister's  heart.  A  strong  scene 
between  husband  and  wife  in  the  first  act  strikes 
the  key-note  of  Rita's  character,  which  must  be 
described  as  jealous,  although  the  jealousy  is  of  a 
complex  sort,  and  more  morbid  than  is  its  wont. 
The  problem  of  the  remaining  two  acts  is  that  of 
working  out  the  effects  of  the  child's  death  upon 
this  passionate  nature,  and  upon  the  nature  9f  the 
husband,  equally  passionate  in  its  depths,  but  out- 
wardly more  restrained. 

To  trace  the  process  by  which  these  stricken 
souls  find  peace  would  be  impossible  without 
translating  the  greater  part  of  the  two  acts  that  fol- 
low. For  peace  finally  comes —  or  we  are  at  least 
assured  that  its  advent  is  imminent  —  to  her, 
through  love,  now  first  realized,  for  the  memory 
of  the  lost  child ;  to  him,  through  a  deeper  pen- 
etration into  the  mystery  of  life.  At  first,  dazed 
with  grief,  the  future  a  blank  to  both,  they  in- 
stinctively turn  to  one  another  for  help,  and,  in 
community  of  grief,  grope  towards  that  higher 
plane  of  thought  and  feeling  which  is  attainable 
by  the  courageous,  but,  perhaps,  .only  through 
the  refiner's  fire  of  suffering.  We  leave  them 


THE  END   OF  THE  HISTORY.  299 

with  the  ascent  well  begun,  and  the  goal  dimly 
in  view.  Moved  by  a  common  impulse  of  altru- 
ism, they  resolve,  thus  bereft  of  their  own  child, 
to  make  better  and  brighter  the  lives  of  the  vil- 
lage children  about  them,  the  very  children  who 
had  made  no  effort  to  save  Eyolf  from  his  fate. 

ALLMERS.  What  do  you  really  think  you  can  do  for  all 
these  poverty-stricken  children? 

RITA.  I  will  try  to  see  if  I  cannot  soften  and  ennoble 
their  lot. 

ALLMERS.  If  you  can  do  that,  little  Eyolf  was  not 
born  in  vain. 

RITA.   Nor  in  vain  taken  from  us. 

ALLMERS  [resolutely,  fixing  his  gaze  upon  her].  Could 
I  not  be  with  you,  and  help  you,  Rita? 

RITA.   Would  you? 

ALLMERS.    Yes,  if  I  only  knew  that  I  could. 

RITA  \_lingeringly\.  But  then  you  would  have  to  stay 
here. 

ALLMERS  [gently].    Let  us  try  to  make  it  succeed. 

RITA  \in  a  barely  audible  voice'].    Let  us  try,  Alfred. 

[Both  are  silent.  Allmers  goes  to  the  staff  and  raises 
the  flag  that  has  floated  at  half-mast.  Rita  watches  him 
in  silenced] 

ALLMERS  [coming  back  to  her].  There  is  a  hard  day's 
work  before  us,  Rita. 

RITA.  But  you  shall  see  the  peace  of  the  sabbath  fall 
upon  us  once  more. 

ALLMERS  [with  quiet  emotion"].  Perchance  we  shall 
have  visits  from  the  world  of  spirits. 


300  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

RITA  [whispering].   Spirits? 

ALLMERS.  Perchance  they  are  about  us  —  those  we 
have  lost. 

RITA  [nodding  slowly].  Our  little  Eyolf.  And  your 
big  Eyolf  too. 

ALLMERS  [gazing  into  space].  Perhaps  on  our  way 
through  life  —  we  may  now  and  then  —  catch  some 
glimpses  of  them. 

RITA.   Where  shall  we  look,  Alfred? 

ALLMERS  [fixing  his  eyes  upon  her].    Above. 

RITA  [nods  in  assent].   Yes,  yes,  above. 

ALLMERS.  Above  —  toward  the  mountain-peaks  —  tow- 
ard the  stars.  And  toward  the  great  silence. 

RITA  [stretching  out  her  hands  to  him].    Thank  you. 

In  this  lovely  scene,  and  in  the  play  of  which 
it  is  the  ending,  we  find  once  more  the  Ibsen 
that  has  seemed  wellnigh  lost  of  recent  years, 
the  idealist  of  "  Brand "  and  "  Peer  Gynt,"  the 
ethical  leader  who  has  preached  so  many  ser- 
mons upon  the  theme  of  losing  life  for  the  sake 
of  saving  it.  Somewhere  in  the  play,  Rita  says, 
"  We  are  creatures  of  earth,  after  all ;  "  and  her 
husband  replies,."  But  something  akin  to  the  sea 
and  the  heavens  too,  Rita."  These  words  may 
'  almost  be  said  to  supply  the  key-note  of  the 
entire  work. 

"John  Gabriel  Borkman "  (1896)  is  a  play 
whose  action  is  based  upon  an  unusually  compli- 
cated series  of  antecedent  circumstances.  Many 


THE  END  OF  THE  HISTORY,  301 

years  before  the  play  opens,  Borkman  was  the 
head  of  a  banking  establishment.  He  was  an 
ambitious  man,  and  had  conceived  a  vast  plan 
for  the  exploitation  of  the  mineral  resources  of 
his  country.  His  aims  were  more  than  personal, 
for  they  looked  to  an  industrial  development 
that  promised  to  better  the  lot  of  thousands 
besides  himself.  In  the  furtherance  of  this  plan, 
he  was  tempted  to  a  reckless  use  of  the  funds  in 
his  custody.  The  cooperation  of  a  business  asso- 
ciate named  Hinkel  became  an  absolute  necessity, 
but  had  to  be  purchased  at  a  great  price.  Both 
Hinkel  and  Borkman  loved  a  woman,  Ella  Ren- 
theim,  who  for  her  part  loved  Borkman.  The  lat- 
ter paid  the  price  demanded,  ceased  his  attentions 
to  the  woman,  and  instead  married  her  twin-sister 
Gunhild.  Hinkel,  however,  found  that  he  had 
not  bought  the  love  he  sought,  although  Borkman 
had  sacrificed  it,  and  learned  to  his  chagrin  that 
Ella  remained  faithful  to  the  man  who  had  given 
her  up.  He  revenged  himself  by  exposing  Bork- 
man's  dealings,  thus  bringing  about  a  criminal 
prosecution,  the  collapse  of  Borkman's  schemes, 
and  the  ruin  of  those  who  had  trusted  in  the  bank. 
The  prosecution  led  to  Borkman's  conviction, 
and  he  was  sentenced  to  five  years  of  imprison- 
ment. Meanwhile  Ella  had  placed  a  house  and 
the  means  of  support  in  the  hands  of  her  sister, 


3O2  HENKIK  IBSEN. 

who,  with  her  son  Erhart,  was  left  otherwise  desti- 
tute. To  this  house  Borkman  returned  after  his 
release  from  prison,  but  held  no  communication 
with  his  wife,  who  could  not  forgive  him  for  the 
disgrace  brought  upon  the  family  name.  For 
eight  years  the  family  lived  in  this  strange  relation, 
she  occupying  the  lower  apartment  and  he  the 
upper.  During  all  this  time  the  sister  had  seen 
neither  of  them,  but  had  obtained  custody  of 
Erhart  for  several  years  of  his  childhood,  and  be- 
come devotedly  attached  to  him.  When  the  real 
play  begins,  Erhart  is  twenty  years  of  age,  and  is 
living  again  with  his  mother,  but,  like  her,  has  no 
intercourse  with  the  voluntary  prisoner  upstairs. 

In  the  first  act,  a  visit  from  Ella  to  her  sister, 
after  years  of  separation,  gives  an  opportunity  for 
the  unfolding  of  the  above  history.  In  the  long 
conversation  between  the  sisters,  their  inmost 
nature  is  revealed ;  both  are  passionate,  but  the 
passion  of  the  one  has  remained  softened  by  her 
love  for  Borkman,  while  the  passion  of  the  other 
—  the  wife  —  has  stiffened  into  the  bitter  pride  of 
an  unforgiving  woman,  and  taken  the  form  of  an 
intense  resolve  that  Erhart  shall  atone  for  his 
father's  guilt,  and  once  more  raise  to  honor  the 
family  name.  Deluded  by  this  hope,  the  one 
thing  to  which  she  clings,  the  mother  does  not 
realize  that  Erhart  has  grown  up  to  be  a  rather 


THE  END   OF   THE  HISTORY.  303 

commonplace,  pleasure-loving  youth,  chafing  under 
the  responsibility  that  others  would  set  upon  his 
shoulders,  swelling  with  a  sense  of  the  joy  of 
life,  and  seeking  distraction  in  the  society  of 
a  young  and  beautiful  widow,  Fanny  Wilton  by 
name,  who  lives  in  a  neighboring  villa.  All  of 
these  things  the  mother  cannot  understand ;  but 
they  are  realized  by  the  sister,  whose  attachment 
to  Erhart  is  such  that  through  it  alone  he  learns 
what  a  mother's  love  really  is.  The  sister,  finding 
her  health  enfeebled,  and  knowing  that  she  has 
not  long  to  live,  has  resolved  to  wrest  Erhart  from 
his  sombre  surroundings,  if  possible,  and  the  pur- 
pose of  the  visit  is  to  plead  with  the  mother  to 
give  up  her  son  and  the  "  mission  "  to  which  she 
would  devote  his  life.  Failing  in  her  entreaty,  the 
sister  says  that  she  cannot  live  without  sight  of 
Erhart,  and  announces  her  determination  to  re- 
main with  him,  since  she  may  not  take  him  away. 
During  the  whole  of  this  long  act,  Borkman  does 
not  appear,  but  we  are  ever  conscious  of  his  pres- 
ence, for  his  footsteps  are  heard  overhead  as  he 
paces  his  apartment  with  the  monotonous  persist- 
ence of  a  caged  lion. 

The  second  act  transfers  the  scene  to  Bork- 
man's  apartment,  and  opens  with  a  long  conver- 
sation between  Borkman  and  Foldal,  —  the  latter 
a  simple-minded  man  of  humble  position,  a  suf- 


304  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

ferer  by  Borkman's  failure,  who  yet  clings  to  his 
old  acquaintance  with  a  sort  of  dog-like  fidelity. 
In   this   scene,  and    in  the    following   scene  with 
Ella,   Borkman    gives   expression   to    his   attitude 
toward   those  who   have  wronged  him   and   been 
wronged  by  him ;  toward  his  wife  and  the  traitor 
Hinkel,  toward  the  world  of  his  creditors,  and  the 
woman  whose  love  he  sacrificed  to  his  ambition. 
In  these  scenes,  and  in  the  scene  with  his  wife  in 
the  third  act,  we  find  what  may  be  taken  as  the 
central  thesis  of  the  play.     As  far  as  the  world 
goes,  Borkman  is  simply  defiant.     He  has  done 
wrong,   and   has  atoned  for  it   by  suffering.     He 
failed    through    treachery   when   within    a    hair's- 
breadth    of  success.     Others   pass   through    such 
crises  to   fame  and   honor;   he  was  luckless,  and 
fell  into  the  abyss  when  success  was  almost  within 
his  grasp.     The  crime  of  which  the  law  took  cog- 
nizance is  not  what  weighs  most  heavily  upon  his 
soul,  but  the  crime  committed  against  himself  and 
the  woman  he  loved.     As  far  as  the  former  goes, 
he   believes  that  he  may  yet  regain  his  worldly 
position,  but  he  learns  from  Ella's  lids  that  in  the 
latter  he  has  sinned  past  forgiving. 

"  You  slew  the  love  that  was  in  me.  Do  you  under- 
stand what. that  means?  The  Bible  speaks  of  a  myste- 
rious sin  for  which  there  is  no  forgiveness.  I  could  not 
understand  before  what  it  might  be.  Now  I  understand. 


THE  END   OF  THE  HISTORY.  305 

The  great,  unpardonable  sin  is  to  slay  love  in  a  human 
heart." 

From  this  personal  reproach  he  has  no  words 
of  self-defence,  but  from  the  reproach  of  the  vio- 
lated social  order  he  seeks  a  somewhat  sophistical 
refuge,  as  appears  in  the  powerful  third  act,  where 
he  confronts  his  wife  for  the  first  time  in  eight 
years. 

"  I  have  given  the  whole  case  a  rehearing  —  for  myself. 
I  have  taken  it  up  over  and  over  again.  I  have  been  my 
own  accuser,  my  own  counsel,  and  my  own  judge.  More 
unpartisan  than  any  one  else  could  be,  I  may  say  that.  I 
have  walked  the  floor  up  there  and  turned  every  one  of 
my  acts  inside  out  and  upside  down,  looked  at  them  from 
before  and  behind  in  as  unsparing  and  unpitying  a  way  as 
any  lawyer  could  have  done.  And  the  judgment  I  come 
to  every  time  is  this  —  that  the  only  one  I  have  sinned 
against  is  myself." 

It  would  hardly  be  fair  to  take  this  defiant  pro- 
nouncement as  an  expression  of  Ibsen's  own 
opinion  of  Borkman's  offence.  Like  all  strong 
dramatists,  the  author  has  too  frequently  been 
made  chargeable  with  the  sentiments  and  opinions 
of  the  characters  created  by  him.  What  we  may, 
however,  justly  take  as  the  author's  personal  mes- 
sage is  the  insistence  upon  individualism  which  is 
so  marked  in  the  words  just  translated.  No  mat- 
ter what  a  man  may  have  done,  he  has  a  right  to 


3O6  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

be  heard  as  an  individual,  and  commands  a  certain 
respect  if  he  is  strong  enough  to  impress  his  in- 
dividual character  upon  the  minds  of  those  with 
whom  he  is  associated. 

This  consideration  leads  us  to  the  statement  of 
another  of  the  leading  ideas  of  the  play.  The 
young  Erhart  is  an  individual  also,  and  makes 
good  his  right  to  be  respected  as  such.  He  is 
beset  by  the  claims  of  three  persons,  each  deter- 
mined to  exact  from  him  what  he  is  not  bound  to 
give.  The  father  would  have  him  share  in  the 
work  of  restoring  a  fallen  reputation.  The  mother 
would  have  him  do  much  the  same  thing,  although 
in  a  different,  independent  way.  The  aunt  would 
have  him  cling  to  her  on  account  of  her  care  for 
his  childhood.  But  he  impatiently  shakes  off 
these  attempts  to  control  his  activity,  refuses  to 
be  bound  by  the  influences  of  the  older  genera- 
tion, determines  to  carve  out  his  own  career,  and 
seeks  for  happiness  in  following  the  dictates  of  his 
own  desires.  We  may  pity  him  for  the  infatua- 
tion that  takes  him  from  home  in  the  company  of 
Mrs.  Wilton,  a  woman  several  years  his  senior, 
and  possibly  we  may  despise  him  for  his  rejection 
of  any  and  all  obligations  toward  those  who  have 
reared  and  cared  for  him,  but  we  must  recognize 
that  he,  too,  no  less  than  his  father,  has  the  right 
of  every  individual  to  live  his  own  life  (the  author 


THE  END   OF   THE  HISTORY.  307 

uses  this  very  phrase,  worn  as  it  is,  and  gives  it 
fresh  vitality),  to  refuse  to  take  upon  his  shoulders 
the  burdens  for  the  existence  of  which  he  is  in  no 
way  responsible. 

"  No  man  can  save  his  brother's  soul, 
Or  pay  his  brother's  debt  " 

might  fairly  be  taken  as  the  motto  of  this  play, 
as  far  as  it  is  concerned  with  Erhart. 

After  the  departure  of  the  boy  in  his  quest  of 
the  joy  of  life,  the  drama  draws  rapidly  to  its 
sombre  but  poetically  impressive  close.  Bork- 
man,  who  has  left  the  confinement  of  his  apart- 
ment for  the  first  time  in  years,  is  seized  with  a 
sort  of  frenzy  for  the  free  air,  and  rushes  from  the 
house  which  the  departure  of  his  son  has  just  left 
desolate.  Although  it  is  a  winter  night,  and  the 
earth  is  white  with  snow,  he  cannot  be  persuaded 
to  return,  and  the  fourth  act  takes  place  out  of 
doors.  At  the  end,  Borkman  and  Ella  Rentheim 
are  left  together,  she  entreating  him  to  seek 
shelter,  and  he  declaring  that  he  will  never  again 
breathe  the  air  of  the  house  that  has  so  long 
confined  him.  Yielding  to  his  stronger  will,  she 
follows  him  out  into  the  darkness  of  the  forest, 
and  the  landscape  shifts  (as  in  the  first  act  oi 
"  Parsifal ")  with  their  progress.  Finally,  Bork- 
man sinks  down  exhausted  upon  a  rustic  bench. 
He  is  a  dying  man,  but  his  senses  are  quickened 


308  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

to  unwonted  acuteness,  and  he  seems  to  enjoy  a 
fulness  of  life  that  he  has  never  known  before. 

BORKMAN.  Ella  !  Do  you  see  the  mountain  ranges 
there,  far  over  yonder,  one  behind  the  other.  They  rise, 
they  tower.  There  is  my  deep,  my  infinite,  my  inex- 
haustible kingdom. 

ELLA  RENTHEIM.  Ah,  but  there  comes  an  icy  blast 
from  that  kingdom,  John. 

BORKMAN.  That  blast  is  the  breath  of  life  to  me,  it 
comes  like  a  greeting  from  my  trusty  spirits.  I  see  them, 
the  buried  millions  ;  I  feel  the  veins  of  metal,  they  stretch 
out  their  bent,  branching,  enticing  arms  toward  me.  I  saw 
them  before  me  like  shades  endowed  with  life  —  that  night 
when  I  stood  in  the  bank  vault,  candle  in  hand.  You 
sought  to  be  free  then,  and  I  tried  to  free  you.  But  I 
could  not.  The  treasure  sank  again  into  the  depths 
[stretching  forth  his  hands'}. ,  But  I  will  whisper  it  to  you 
here  amid  the  peace  of  night.  I  love  you  as  you  lie  there 
deep  and  dark  in  the  semblance  of  death.  I  love  you, 
wealth  yearning  for  life,  with  all  your  shining  train  of 
power  and  glory  ;  I  love  you,  love  you,  love  you  ! 

ELLA  RENTHEIM  [with  quiet,  growing  feeling'].  Yes, 
your  affections  are  still  set  down  there,  John, -they  were 
always  there.  But  up  here  in  the  light  of  day,  there  was  a 
warm,  living,  human  heart  that  beat  for  you.  And  you 
crushed  that  heart.  Ah,  more  than  that  —  tenfold  worse 
—  you  sold  it  for  —  for  — 

BORKMAN  [shivering  as  with  the  cold}.  For  the  sake  of 
the  kingdom,  and  the  power,  and  the  glory  —  you  mean  ? 

ELLA  RENTHEIM.  Yes,  I  mean  that.  I  told  you  this 
evening  once  before.  You  slew  affection  in  the  woman 


THE  END   OF  THE  HISTORY.  309 

who  loved  you,  and  whom  you  loved  in  return,  —  as  far 
as  you  could  love  any  one  [with  upraised  arm] .  And 
therefore  I  foretell  you  this,  John  Gabriel  Borkman,  you 
will  never  win  the  prize  you  craved  for  that  deed.  You 
will  never  enter  triumphant  into  your  cold  and  gloomy 
kingdom  ! 

Borkman  sinks  upon  the  bench,  and  presently  his 
wife  appears,  but  only  to  find  her  sister  watching 
over  his  dead  body. 

ELLA  RENTHEIM.    It  was  the  cold  that  killed  him. 

FRU  BORKMAN  [shaking  her  head~\.  The  cold,  you 
say?  The  cold  had  killed  him  long  before. 

ELLA  RENTHEIM.   And  made  shadows  of  us  both,  yes. 

FRU  BORKMAN.    You  are  right. 

£LLA  RENTHEIM  [with  a  sad  smile'}.  One  dead  man 
and  two  shadows  —  the  cold  has  done  that. 

FRU  BORKMAN.  Yes,  the  cold  in  the  heart.  And  now 
we  may  clasp  hands,  Ella. 

ELLA  RENTHEIM.   Yes,  I  think  we  may  now. 

FRU  BORKMAN.  We  twin-sisters,  over  his  body,  whom 
we  both  loved. 

ELLA  RENTHEIM.  We  two  shadows  —  over  the  dead 
man. 

It  is  evident  from  the  above  analysis  that  this  play 
is  one  of  the  most  straightforward  and  intelligible 
pieces  of  work  that  Ibsen  has  given  us.  It  has  not 
the  tenderness  of  "  Little  Eyolf,"  nor  has  it  the 
haunting  symbolism  of  "The  Master  Builder." 
But  it  has  a  strength  and  a  closeness  of  texture  in 


310  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

which  these  plays  are  somewhat  lacking,  and  proves 
peculiarly  effective  as  an  acting  drama. 

The  last  of  Ibsen's  plays,  "  When  We  Dead 
Awake,"  was  published  in  1899,  being  separated  by 
three  years,  instead  of  the  customary  two,  from  its 
predecessor.  The  play  is  further  described  as  "  a 
dramatic  epilogue,"  which  seems  to  mean  that  the 
author  has  definitely  closed  the  series  of  problem- 
plays,  or  studies  in  social  pathology,  which  was 
begun  in  1878  with  "The  Pillars  of  Society,"  and 
which  is  made  an  even  dozen  by  the  work  now 
under  discussion.  One  in  search  of  fanciful  anal- 
ogies might  find  in  that  first  title  some  suggestion 
of  an  intellectual  Samson  determined  to  pull  down 
the  temple  of  modern  society,  and  in  the  last  some 
suggestion  of  the  nobler  social  structure  that  may 
be  expected  to  spring  from  the  ruins  of  the  old 
order. 

This  is,  of  course,  the  merest  fancy  and  nothing 
more,  but  it  is  the  prerogative  of  Ibsen's  work  to 
suggest  ideas  that  lie  far  afield  from  its  direct  mes- 
sage, and  it  is  impossible  to  remain  literal-minded 
in  the  presence  of  the  extraordinary  series  of  com- 
positions now  brought  to  an  end.  Their  signifi- 
cance is  none  the  less  real  because  it  is  elusive,  and 
their  larger  implications  must  determine  our  judg- 
ment quite  as  much  as  the  nicety  of  their  drama- 
turgical craftsmanship.  "  When  We  Dead  Awake  " 


THE  EATD   OF  THE  HISTORY.  311 

is  a  title  which  in  itself  awakens  many  echoes  from 
the  author's  earlier  writings.  It  proclaims  anew 
his  whole  insistent  gospel  of  the  need  of  spiritual 
regeneration  for  an  age  sunk  in  slothfulness  —  the 
gospel  of  Brand's 

"  Forth  !  out  of  this  stifling  pit ! 
Vault-like  is  the  air  of  it ! 
Not  a  flag  may  float  unf  url'd 
In  this  dead  and  windless  world." 

It  sounds  once  more  that  note  of  high  idealism 
which  is  never  altogether  missing  from  his  work, 
and  which  is  the  real  secret  of  the  appeal  which  he 
has  so  powerfully  made  to  all  who  have  ever  dreamed 
of  the  realization  of  Utopias  and  the  permanent 
betterment  of  the  social  order. 

But,  whatever  aspirations  may  breathe  through 
his  symbolism,  Dr.  Ibsen  never  forgets  that  he  is  a 
dramatic  artist  writing  for  the  stage,  and  that  his 
first  concern  is  the  concrete  presentation  of  such 
men  and  women  as  we  may  at  any  time  meet  with  in 
actual  life.  The  new  play  opens  in  the  most  matter- 
of-fact  way  at  a  summer  resort  on  the  Norwegian 
coast.  Professor  Rubek  and  his  wife  Maja  are 
seated  outside  the  hotel.  They  have  just  finished 
breakfast  and  are  reading  the  newspapers.  Rubek 
is  a  sculptor  of  European  reputation,  who  has  re- 
turned to  his  native  land  after  a  lengthy  sojourn 
abroad.  Both  are  restless,  and  it  soon  transpires 


3  1 2  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

that  neither  of  them  has  found  satisfaction  during 
the  years  of  their  married  life.  It  is  a  case  of  the 
deeper  sort  of  incompatibility.  An  artist  and  a 
frivolous  woman  are  joined  together,  and  neither 
of  them  can  give  the  other  what  is  most  wanted. 
To  him  has  been  denied  inspiration  for  his  work, 
to  her  the  joyous  round  of  gaiety  which  she  craves. 
For  years  they  have  pretended  a  satisfaction  they 
did  not  feel,  but  the  breaking-point  has  nearly  been 
reached. 

All  this  comes  out  very  clearly  in  the  opening 
scene.  Soon  afterwards,  the  two  remaining  char- 
acters of  the  play  appear.  One  is  a  landed 
proprietor  named  Ulfhejm,  the  other  is  Irene,  a 
pale,  mysterious  woman  who  turns  out  to  be  an 
old  friend  of  Rubek,  —  no  other,  in  fact,  than  the 
woman  who  had  been  his  model  for  "The  Day  of 
Resurrection,"  and  thus  the  inspiration  of  his  best 
artistic  effort.  She  is  attended  by  a  deaconess,  a 
shadowy,  silent  figure,  who  speaks  only  three  words 
at  the  very  close  of  the  drama.  Ulfhejm,  who  is 
an  enthusiastic  sportsman,  is  coarse  of  speech  and 
unconventional  in  manner.  Maja  is  attracted  to 
him  by  his  abundant  animal  spirits,  and  they  plan 
a  hunting  expedition.  When  they  have  gone  off 
together,  Rubek  is  left  with  Irene,  and  memories 
of  the  past  come  surging  upon  him.  In  the  in- 
timacy of  their  earlier  relations,  he  had  viewed  her 


THE  END   OF  THE  HISTORY.  313 

with  the  artist's  eye  only ;  she,  on  the  other  hand, 
had  loved  him  with  all  the  strength  of  her  passion- 
ate nature.  To  him  she  had  been  an  episode ;  to 
her  he  had  been  everything  that  makes  life  desir- 
able. When  they  had  parted  she  had  become  like 
"  The  Woman  with  the  Dead  Soul "  of  Mr.  Stephen 
Phillips's  poem.  She  had  existed,  but  the  vital 
spark  had  been  extinguished  within  her  breast. 
He,  learning  too  late  how  great  was  his  need  of  her 
inspiration,  had  made  a  prosaic  marriage,  and  had 
discovered  that  the  creative  impulse  had  fled  be- 
yond his  control.  The  situation  is  something  like 
that  of  "  The  Master  Builder,"  when  the  appear- 
ance of  Hilda  reawakens  in  the  artist  the  old 
aspirations  and  the  old  ideal  visions.  Irene  re- 
proaches the  sculptor  with  having  seen  in  her 
only  the  beautiful  figure,  not  the  loving  woman's 
soul. 

RUBEK.    I  was  an  artist,  Irene. 

IRENE.   Just  that,  just  that. 

RUBEK.  An  artist  first  of  all.  And  I  was  ill  and  would 
create  the  great  work  of  my  life.  It  should  be  called 
"  The  Day  of  Resurrection."  It  should  be  produced  in 
the  likeness  of  a  young  woman,  waking  from  the  sleep  of 
death. 

IRENE.    Our  child,  yes. 

RUBEK.  She  should  be  the  noblest,  purest,  most  ideal 
woman  of  earth,  she  who  awoke.  And  then  I  found  you. 
I  could  use  you  with  complete  satisfaction.  And  you 


314  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

submitted  so  willingly,  so  gladly.  Left  people  and  home, 
and  followed  me. 

IRENE.  It  was  my  resurrection  from  childhood  when  I 
followed  you. 

RUBEK.  That  was  just  why  I  could  use  you.  You  and 
none  other.  You  became  for  me  a  sacrosanct  creature, 
whom  I  might  touch  only  in  the  worship  of  my  thoughts. 
I  was  still  young  then,  Irene.  And  I  was  possessed  by 
the  superstition  that  should  I  touch  you,  desire  you  in 
reality,  it  would  be  a  desecration,  and  put  beyond  my 
power  the  work  that  I  sought  to  do.  And  I  yet  believe 
there  is  truth  in  that. 

IRENE.    First  the  work  of  art  —  then  the  human  child. 

RUBEK.  Judge  of  it  as  you  will.  But  I  was  completely 
controlled  by  my  task  at  that  time,  and  it  made  me  jubi- 
lantly happy. 

IRENE.  And  your  task  turned  the  corner  for  you, 
Arnold. 

RUBEK.  With  thanks  and  blessings  for  you,  it  turned 
the  corner  for  me.  I  sought  to  create  the  pure  woman 
just  as  it  seemed  to  me  she  must  awake  on  the  day  of 
resurrection.  Not  surprised  at  anything  new  and  un- 
known and  undreamed  of,  but  filled  with  sacred  joy  at 
finding  herself  unchanged  —  she,  the  woman  of  earth  — 
in  the  higher,  freer,  more  joyous  lands  —  after  the  long 
and  dreamless  sleep  of  death.  So  did  I  create  her  —  in 
your  image  I  created  her,  Irene. 

He  speaks  of  a  projected  journey  along  the  north 
coast  with  his  wife,  but  Irene  counsels  him  rather  to 
seek  the  heights,  and  asks  if  he  dare  meet  her  again 
up  there.  "  If  we  only  could  !  "  is  his  cry,  and  she 


THE  END   OF  THE  HISTORY.  315 

replies:  "Why  can  we  not  do  what  we  will? 
Come,  Arnold,  come  up  to  me."  "  Why  can  we 
not  do  what  we  will  ?  "  The  whole  of  Ibsen  is 
in  that  passionate  question.  Why  does  deed  fall 
so  far  short  of  impulse?  Why  do  we  cripple  our 
lives  by  making  them  so  much  less  than  our 
ideals  ?  Noticeable  also  in  this  scene  is  the  re- 
currence of  the  typical  motive  of  "  The  Master 
Builder,"  for  as  Hilda  comes  to  Solness  and  re- 
calls the  past  in  such  fashion  as  to  rekindle  his 
artistic  energies,  so  Irene  comes  to  the  sculptor 
at  a  similar  period  of  slackened  will,  and  bids 
him  once  more  be  greatly  daring. 

In  the  second  act,  Rubek  and  his  wife,  in  sor- 
row rather  than  in  passion,  say  some  of  the 
things  they  have  long  felt,  and  put  into  bare  and 
almost  brutal  speech  their  attitude  toward  one 
another.  After  this  discussion,  Maja  leaves  the 
scene,  meets  Irene,  and  sends  her  to  Rubek.  A 
long  reminiscent  dialogue  between  these  two  then 
follows,  leading  to  this  poetical  and  impressive 
climax :  — 

IRENE.  Look,  Arnold.  Now  the  sun  is  sinking  behind 
the  peaks.  Just  see  how  red  the  slanting  rays  shine  upon 
all  the  hilltops  yonder. 

RUBEK.  It  is  long  since  I  have  seen  a  sunset  on  the 
mountains. 

IRENE.   And  a  sunrise? 


316  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

RUBEK.    I  think  I  have  never  seen  a  sunrise. 

IRENE.    I  saw  a  wonderfully  beautiful  sunrise  once. 

RUBEK.   Did  you?     Where  was  it? 

IRENE.  High,  high  up  on  a  dizzy  mountain  top.  You 
enticed  me  thither,  and  promised  that  I  should  behold  all 
the  glory  of  the  world,  if  I  would  only  — 

RUBEK.   If  you  would  only  ?  —  Well  ? 

IRENE.  I  did  as  you  told  me.  Followed  you  up  to 
the  heights.  And  there  I  fell  on  my  knees,  —  and  be- 
sought you  —  and  worshipped  you.  Then  I  saw  the 
sunrise. 

The  close  of  this  act  brings  an  appointment  be- 
tween the  two  to  spend  the  warm  bright  summer 
night  upon  the  heights.  At  the  same  time  it 
must  be  remembered  that  Maja  and  Ulfhejm  have 
planned  a  hunting  expedition  for  that  night  also. 

IRENE.    Until  to-night.     On  the  upland. 

RUBEK.    And  you  will  come,  Irene  ? 

IRENE.    I  will  truly  come.     Wait  for  me  here. 

RUBEK.  A  summer  night  on  the  upland.  With  you, 
with  you.  Oh,  Irene,  it  might  have  been  a  lifetime. 
And  we  have  wasted  it,  we  two. 

IRENE.   We  first  come  to  see  the  irretrievable  when  — 

RUBEK.   When  ? 

IRENE.   When  we  dead  awake. 

RUBEK.    What  is  it  we  come  to  see  ? 

IRENE.    We  see  that  we  have  never  lived. 

With  the  last  act  comes  the  inevitable  tragic 
ending.  The  scene  is  laid  high  up  among  the 
mountains,  with  precipices  on  the  one  hand,  and 


THE  END   OF  THE  HISTORY.  317 

snovvclad  peaks  on  the  other.  The  time  is  just 
before  sunrise.  Maja  and  Ulfhejm  first  appear, 
and  after  a  long  dialogue  come  upon  Irene  and 
Rubek.  A  storm  is  brewing,  and  the  note  of 
warning  is  sounded  by  Ulfhejm.  He  goes  down 
the  mountain  with  Maja,  promising  to  send  succor 
for  the  others,  but  they  take  little  heed  of  this, 
having  reached  the  pitch  of  exaltation  that  cares 
nothing  for  physical  dangers,  and  fears  only  a  re- 
lapse into  the  deadly  moral  conditions  of  ordinary 
prosaic  life. 

RUBEK.  Then  let  us  two  dead  live  life  once  to  the 
dregs,  ere  we  go  down  again  into  our  graves. 

IRENE.    Arnold ! 

RUBEK.  But  not  here  in  the  twilight.  Not  here, 
where  the  wet,  hideous  shroud  flaps  about  us. 

IRENE.  No,  no.  Up  into  the  light  and  all  the  glitter- 
ing glory !  Up  to  the  peaks  of  promise ! 

RUBEK.  Up  there  we  will  celebrate  our  bridal  festival, 
Irene,  my  beloved. 

IRENE.    The  sun  will  see  us  gladly,  Arnold. 

RUBEK.  All  the  powers  of  light  will  see  us  gladly. 
And  all  the  powers  of  darkness.  \_Taking  her  hand~\  Will 
you  follow  me,  then,  my  gracious  bride? 

IRENE.  Willing  and  gladly  will  I  follow  my  lord  and 
master. 

RUBEK.  We  must  first  make  our  way  through  the 
mists,  Irene,  and  then  — 

IRENE.  Yes,  through  all  the  mists,  and  so  straight  up  to 
the  towering  peak,  that  gleams  in  the  sunrise. 


3  1 8  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

As  the  two  pass  upward  hand  in  hand,  the  tempest 
increases  in  violence.  The  silent  attendant  of 
Irene  appears  and  looks  about  for  her  mistress. 
The  jubilant  voice  of  Maja  is  heard  from  far 
below.  Then,  with  a  roar  like  thunder,  an  ava- 
lanche sweeps  down  the  mountain  side,  and  buries 
the  devoted  two  in  its  depths. 

Such  is  the  scene  which,  like  the  similar  scene 
in  "  Brand,"  leaves  us  awe-stricken  at  the  close  of 
the  drama.  We  leave  to  others  the  task  of  read- 
ing a  lesson  into  this  tragic  presentment  of  two 
human  souls  thus  brought  to  the  crisis  of  their 
lives.  Journalism  —  and  by  journalism  is  meant 
the  sort  of  writing  which,  whether  found  in  news- 
papers or  in  books,  invariably  balks  at  every  form 
of  idealism,  and  always,  of  the  possible  motives 
for  any  course  of  action,  assumes  the  basest  or  the 
least  worthy,  to  offer  the  most  rational  explana- 
tion—  journalism,  we  say,  will  scoff  at  this  story, 
just  as  it  scoffed  at  "  L'Abbesse  de  Jouarre  "  and 
"  Die  Versunkene  Glocke,"  with  both  of  which 
works  this  drama  has  suggestive  affinities.  But 
we  pity  the  reader  who  can  contemplate  the  situ- 
ation here  created  by  the  genius  of  Dr.  Ibsen, 
and  find  only  prosaic  emotions  to  feel,  only  pro- 
saic things  to  say.  An  awful  pity  and  an  awful 
sense  of  omnipotent  fate  seem  the  fitting  subjec- 
tive accompaniment  of  the  tragedy  here  worked 


THE  END   OF  THE  HISTORY.  319 

out  with  unerring  objective  mastery.  In  the 
presence  of  such  creative  power,  of  such  a  cer- 
tain grasp  upon  the  very  core  of  passion,  such  an 
envisagement  of  the  problem  of  life  when  stripped 
of  all  adventitious  trappings,  all  criticism  seems 
futile,  and  all  comment  superfluous. 

Ibsen  returned  to  Norway  for  permanent  resi- 
dence several  years  ago,  making  his  home  in 
Christiania,  and  the  honors  that  have  since  been 
heaped  upon  him  by  his  fellow-countrymen,  now 
unanimous  in  the  pride  with  which  they  claim  him, 
have  richly  atoned  for  the  mistrust  and  calumny 
of  the  earlier  years.  He  has  become  a  prophet 
for  his  own  country,  as  well  as  for  the  rest  of  the 
world,  and  has  entered  into  the  full  heritage  of  his 
fame.  His  seventieth  birthday,  in  1898,  was  made 
the  occasion  of  the  heartiest  of  celebrations,  and 
evoked  tributes  of  praise  for  his  work  from  all 
parts  of  the  world.  This  year  (1901)  he  has 
suffered  from  a  severe  illness  which  leaves  little 
hope  of  a  restoration  to  his  former  activity.  It  is 
understood  that  he  has  prepared  some  sort  of  an 
autobiography,  but,  such  is  his  habitual  secretive- 
ness  concerning  his  literary  work,  not  even  his 
closest  friends  know  very  much  about  it.  Even 
during  the  months  of  his  recent  illness  he  has 
been  working  almost  daily  at  some  composition  of 
which  no  other  human  being  has  yet  had  sight. 


32O  HENRIK  IBSEN. 

It  is  evident  that  the  work  of  his'  life  is  practically 
completed ;  the  content  and  significance  of  that 
life-work,  as  set  forth  in  the  preceding  pages,  are 
such  as  to  make  of  it  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
intellectual  manifestations  of  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury, and  to  insure  its  profound  and  lasting  in- 
fluence upon  the  twentieth  century. 


THE  END 


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